Roaring Up the Wrong Tree

by Celia Kyle

  Her eyes burned, tears gathering, and she didn’t know why the hell his heartfelt promise had her crying. She’d become a basket case since meeting Keen Abrams and she prayed she’d get her emotions under control. Soon.

  “If you say you haven’t, then I believe you.”

  “I haven’t.” His gaze searched hers, his eyes entirely too intent.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?” He sounded skeptical and she nodded to assure him she told the truth. “Okay then. Let’s see the house. It meets all of my wants, but we need to see if you’ll be happy here.”

  Her. Trista Ann Scott. Happy. It was such a foreign concept that she feared she’d wake up any moment.

  But she didn’t as they moved through the family room that sported a large fireplace to warm them on winter nights. Or even when she described the type of rug she’d love to have spread across the floor.

  Keen told her it was a good idea since they didn’t want their cubs banging against the hard floor while they learned to walk. That made her heart stutter and she pretended the next room was more interesting than the last.

  That’d been the kitchen with its six-burner gas stove, double ovens, and island with two sinks. The counters were polished granite and smooth to the touch. She imagined herself preparing dinner for Keen and their cubs and maybe, someday, the rest of his family.

  That had tears springing forward once again and the stairs became the most interesting part of the home.

  He didn’t object to her random dashes for other parts of the house. No, he simply followed her, adding his own comments, making her fall a tiny bit in love with him. Which… which was not fair. She didn’t want to love him, didn’t want to think about a future where she depended on him for everything. But he wasn’t going to let her imagine a time when he wasn’t at her side, holding her up when she leaned close.

  They emerged onto the second floor landing and the view had her freezing in place. Keen’s warmth surrounded her and still she stared at the backyard, at the trimmed grass, and the lush tree that held a massive treehouse. The area was a young child’s dream, her dream of years and years ago.

  “Tris?” he murmured, his heated breath fanning her face.

  “I—It’s beautiful.” It was.

  He wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her back to mold to his front. His chin rested atop her head, gently resting there. They stared at the backyard, watching the gentle sway of the trees and the rustling of the flowers that lined the back patio. There was even an area for a grill, and she wondered how many nights they’d spend out there, cooking and chatting and enjoying life.

  “It’s gorgeous, Tris.” He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the side of her neck. “Come see the rest of it.”

  *

  Keen changed his hold, catching her hand and leading her down the hallway. The home was everything Helena had said it would be. Better than the pictures that accompanied the listing online.

  They came to the regular bedrooms first, four in all and each exactly the same as the others. They had different views, two of the front yard and two of the back, but that was the only thing that separated them.

  He took a moment to imagine them filled with their cubs. He figured four was a good number. They’d have four and each one would be taught control and would be loved and treated equally. Unlike him.

  “The master bedroom is this way.” He eased her to the last bedroom. Until the moment she was fully in the hallway, her gaze remained intent on a pattern of pale baby animals that decorated the walls. It’d obviously been a nursery at one time. Was she excited by the prospect of cubs or did she loathe the idea? He quietly took a deep breath and was relieved that anticipation filled her scent.

  He didn’t hesitate to draw her into the last space. It was large, as wide as the house was deep and it almost felt as if it took up half of the upper floor. He imagined his large bed dominating the center along with new matching furniture peppering the space. To the left was their bathroom and closets while the right boasted a large, bay window and welcoming window seat. It was uncommon for a house with this design, but the notes on the listing stated certain upgrades were made for comfort. He assumed this was one of the changes.

  Trista immediately drifted toward the window, her gaze focused on the backyard.

  He went to her slowly, gently gathering her in his arms and then sitting. He drew her into his lap and held her close. It felt right, perfect even. He knew holding her would never get old.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “That this house is gorgeous.”

  Keen smiled and his bear chuffed, pleased they’d found a good home.

  “Do I hear a ‘but’ in there?” He hoped not yet. Her hesitation said otherwise.

  “I’m sure it’s expensive.” She shook her head and turned to look at him. “It’s too much and I can’t contribute right away. I’m sure there are smaller—”

  He silenced her with a kiss, a sweet meeting of their mouths despite the fact he wanted to deepen the connection. “I’m very good at my job and this house won’t begin to touch my savings. If you like it, it’s ours.”

  She swallowed hard and he saw the emotions flit across her face. Worry, hope, unease, happiness, anxiousness…

  “I want you to be happy, Tris. This place? We’re gonna make it ours. We’re going to fill it with cubs someday and I want to wake up to your smiles right here in his room.”

  Trista grimaced. “Not Helena? She’s so beautiful.”

  His bear snarled at him, pissed that he hadn’t told her about his past already. She could help him, but not if he didn’t trust her with the truth.

  He hated when the bastard animal was right.

  Keen traced the back of her hand, fingers gliding over the pale blue veins that lingered beneath her skin. “Do you remember how I reacted in the living room this morning?”

  God, had his life changed so quickly? He went from destroying his brothers to claiming Trista, and possibly buying a house all in one day.

  “Yes.”

  “That is my normal self. It’s how I feel twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. The urge to tear through anyone who hints at opposing me is a constant in my life.” He breathed deeply and let it out slowly. The bear didn’t want to reveal his vulnerability, but she needed to understand what she was getting herself into. “Except when I’m with a woman. The touch of a female soothes me and quiets the animal. It allows me to get through another day as the bear slowly wakes from that feeling of euphoria and calm.”

  “Helena,” she murmured.

  “Yes. I slept in her bed, but it was only sleeping. Just like a lot of the other women in town. People joke that I have a girlfriend on every street, but it’s not like that.” Trista turned into him and rubbed her cheek against his. “The problem is the serenity wears off. The bear gets tired of the female and I’m forced to find someone else.”

  She stiffened, tensing in his arms. “I don’t think I can go through that, Keen.”

  He shook his head, rubbing his scruff against her smooth cheek and enjoying the small shiver that traveled through her. “You won’t have to. He wants you and only you, which is new for him. He’s possessive as hell and the mere scent of Helena nearly sent him into a rage.”

  She harrumphed. “You didn’t look too rage-y to me. You looked—”

  Keen captured her lips in a quick, bruising kiss. “I was a man trying very hard not to tear through her to get to you.” This time the kiss was softer. “Believe me, if I could hole up in a room with you for a week and bathe in your scent, I would.” Another gentle meeting of lips. “If I could take your mark right this second, I would. You wouldn’t have to let me claim you in return, but knowing that I belonged to you…” He knew what he wanted, but he also knew it was too fast. Especially for someone like Trista. “When you’re ready, when you trust me, I’ll bare my throat to you.”

  “I…” Her whispered words faltered, but he kept hope close to his hea
rt.

  Unwilling to let her finish her sentence, he eased her from his lap. “Let’s check out this bathroom and then we can talk about whether we wanna buy it or not.”

  Trista shook her head, but allowed him to draw her to her feet and snug against him. One more cuddle before he had to release her. Her curves clung to his hardened body and he savored the softness of her form. So sweet and welcoming even if her insides were prickly and snappy. He was slowly breaking down her defenses and he couldn’t wait for her to welcome him into her heart.

  Hopefully, buying this house was a good start. He’d admit, if only to himself, he wasn’t above buying her affections. With luck, her feelings would shift from appreciation and gratitude to something deeper and lasting.

  The bathroom was like the rest of the house, a combination of modern design with historical touches. The Jacuzzi tub beckoned and foreshadowed long nights of relaxation. Hopefully with Trista. While the tile and sinks remained original, the standup shower had clear glass doors and he couldn’t wait to happen upon Trista as water ran over her lush form, washing away the remnants of soap that clung to her. He’d pause and watch her for a moment, drawing out his need, before finally joining her.

  Yeah, he couldn’t wait.

  “What do you think of the house?” His voice drew her attention and he smiled at the wide-eyed wonder gracing her face.

  “It’s gorgeous.”

  He nodded. It was. Beautiful and perfect and the home he’d dreamed of for longer than he could remember. The bear didn’t like sharing its den, even if the other people were family members.

  “So, we’ll buy it.”

  Trista scoffed. “There’s no ‘we’ here, Keen. I’m ninety-nine percent sure I’ve lost both my jobs by now. Definitely the one at Jerry’s. How am I exactly helping you with the cost?”

  He couldn’t resist the urge to touch her and his boots echoed in the tiled room as he strode to her. He cupped her cheek, forcing her gaze to meet his. “You are the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me in my entire life, Trista Scott. If this house brings a smile to your face, then you’ve done your part. Let me do mine.”

  His heart cracked when he noticed the moisture gathering in her eyes. He wondered if the woman cried all the time or if he was the lucky one who made her teary whenever he spoke.

  “You’re sure?” It was so fast, she’d spun from running for her life to verbally mated and buying a house in hours.

  He bent down, pressed his forehead to hers, and rubbed their noses together. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Trista stared at the boxes piled in a haphazard fashion and scattered throughout the first floor of their new house.

  Their. New. House.

  It’d taken two days for the sale to be completed. One for the paperwork to be drawn up for signature and then anther for Keen to wire the money. Now it was Thursday night, and they had keys and were moving his furniture and belongings into the house. Their new furnishings and decorations also showed up this morning.

  At 10 a.m., when Trista stood in the middle of the family room, gawking as movers brought the new things into the home, Keen gathered her into his arms and smiled down at her. This is what money can do and this is how it will be for you.

  Now, four hours later, and she was still seeing man after man enter the house, carrying things she didn’t even remember ordering.

  “Tris?” Keen’s yell rose above the heavy tread of the men carrying their couch through the front door.

  “Yeah, coming.” Still shell-shocked, she made her way to the stairs and thumped up them, hunting her mate.

  Just as she reached the landing, he stuck his head out of a doorway. “There you are. Come see.”

  She’d been “coming and seeing” all day. The man was like a kid in a candy store and had to show her everything that moved through the home. She was exhausted from the constant running and hunting, but the fatigue couldn’t destroy her happiness.

  “What’d you do now?” She grinned and went to him, allowed him to draw her into the space. It was one of the rooms that faced the backyard and she noticed he’d had a window seat installed, as well as a drawing desk and an area that featured a painting easel. The light was perfect for early morning sessions. She remembered saying something about wanting to paint and draw, that’d she’d loved it in middle school but the idea had been pushed aside with Mr. Scott’s death. Living became more important than paints. She froze in the doorway, unable to breathe. “Oh, Keen…”

  “I’m guessing I did good.” He approached her, wide smile in place. He captured her hand and drew her deeper into the room. “Come see.”

  He showed her everything. The paints he’d purchased, the brushes and pencils and everything she’d ever need. Plus he had a schedule of art classes at the local community college. “This is too much.”

  He shook his head and kissed her, hard and fast and not nearly enough. They’d done nothing but hold each other in the night and kiss during the day. He hadn’t pushed for more and neither had she. It’d happen someday, they’d eventually solidify their mating, but it didn’t seem like he was in a hurry. At the moment, she wasn’t either, but each morning, each minute, he showed her he was dependable. He was worthy to be leaned upon and he’d never destroy her trust.

  “It’s not too much, and I’m not done yet.” He pulled her to the single picture decorating the wall. Or rather, the lone framed document. “It’s a copy of the original. I’ve got that one locked in our safety deposit box.”

  She still hadn’t looked at the form, not closely, she was too surprised by the “our” safety deposit box. “Ours?”

  Keen shrugged. He did a lot of that, especially when he was caught doing something that added her name to yet another part of his life. “It was one of the things you signed.”

  She glared at him. “You put that in there with the house paperwork, didn’t you?”

  By the time they’d finished reviewing and signing things, she didn’t know what the hell she’d done. The house was free and clear, he hadn’t taken out a loan, and it wasn’t like she had credit or much of an identity he could steal. He’d assured her that she signed nothing that would negatively impact her in any way. When the attorney representing them reinforced Keen’s statement and reminded her he was ethically and legally bound to tell her the truth, she’d finally scrawled her name on each page.

  “Maybe.” He grinned. “Now, look at the first bit of art you’ve got.”

  Glare still in place, he turned her attention to the frame on the wall, focused on its contents, and gasped. There, in black and white, was the deed to the house and it held one name. Hers.

  “Keen…” She read it again, skipping over the legalese and simply hunting for any hint of Keen’s name. And she found none. “You…”

  He nudged her until she fully faced the wall and plastered himself to her back, enveloping her in a warm hug. “The house is yours. Completely. If something happens to me, if you realize I’m a bad bet, you’ll always have a home.”

  “But…”

  “You’ll also have your own bank account that has enough to cover the taxes, utilities, and cost of upkeep for the house for twenty years. Longer if we invest it right. But it’s yours.”

  Trista nudged him back and turned toward him, staring into his midnight black eyes and noticing the new hint of brown scruff on his cheeks. The bear was out, peering at her, and both of them were waiting for her reaction. Not hesitating, she cupped his face and held him steady as she pushed to her tiptoes. She brushed her lips across his, enjoying the first kiss she’d initiated.

  When she felt him give in, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him in place. She savored his innate flavors, the smoky sweetness specific to him. One gentle kiss turned into a simmering passionate tangle of tongues and nipping teeth. The familiar heat, the well-known rush of arousal that came with their kisses, assaulted her. It overtook her body in a blind
ing rush, filling her from head to toe. It urged her to wriggle closer to him, to press against him until their bodies were like one. She wanted to trace every dip and curve of muscle, learn the taste of his skin and the feel of him beneath her hands.

  She wanted Keen Abrams plain and simple.

  Keen moaned against her lips and wrapped his arms around her waist, hands coming to rest at the top curve of her ass. That was as forceful as he’d become, as if he were simply waiting for her to break free and shy away from him. She had to admit, it’d been a very near thing several times, but now…

  Now he knew her, knew what she needed, and had handed over the answer without question. The old house, even in the middle of a tiny town like Grayslake, went for easily over two hundred grand and he’d paid cash. Then there was the value of her new account. She couldn’t imagine how much he thought she’d need. Trista was sure it was way too much, but he just… gave it to her.

  God, she needed more than these passionate kisses. She lifted her leg and wrapped it around Keen’s thigh, pulling him even closer than before. She wasn’t tall enough to rest it on his hip, but a gal worked with what she had.

  That drew a deep moan from him followed by the rumbling growl of his bear. She wasn’t afraid of the sound. No, she recognized his bear’s response for what it was: pure need. For her.

  She broke the kiss long enough to beg for him. “Please, Keen…”

  She knew she wasn’t ready for sex, but she sure as hell was prepared for more than what they’d shared. It’d taken one piece of paper and she realized he knew her better than she knew herself. One of the final walls protecting her heart crumbled beneath him.

  Keen bent his legs, shifted his hands to her ass and then her feet no longer touched the floor. He lifted her until her pussy met his hardened cock and the only thing separating them was the cloth of their jeans. She wrapped her legs around his waist, welcoming him without hesitation. He stumbled forward until her back met the wall, her head coming to rest beside the frame that’d started their desirous frenzy.