Roaring Up the Wrong Tree

by Celia Kyle

  She dove into their kiss, welcoming the heat and pleasure that came from their new position. He rocked his hips ever so slightly, as if testing her willingness, and she moaned in approval. Yes, she wanted this closeness more than she wanted anything in the world and she wanted it now.

  Her heat throbbed while her clit twitched, and warmth enveloped her in an aroused wave. Her nipples hardened, pressing against the fabric of her bra and thin T-shirt as if they wanted to break free of the cloth. She wanted skin on skin, mouths on flesh, and bodies meeting in a rhythm as old as time.

  Yes. Yes. Yes.

  What she got was a masculine throat clearing followed by a loud cough. The sound had Keen yanking away from her, dropping her to her feet while he spun and faced the interloper. On unsteady legs, she stared at her mate’s back, noting the way his shoulders expanded and stretched his shirt to almost tearing. His legs were doing the same, pushing against his jeans. That’s when she noticed the rolling, threatening growl. Keen wasn’t just annoyed, he was furious and was ready to take out his anger on their unfortunate visitor.

  Taking him at his word, trusting in her ability to calm the raging beast, she eased her arms around his waist. When he didn’t pull away, she allowed her front to align with his back until she touched him from shoulders to knees.

  “Keen.” She whispered his name and his reaction was instantaneous.

  Beneath her touch, he deflated, his size shrinking the tiniest bit while his sounds were swallowed. One of his hands rested atop hers while he reached back, his palm sliding along her arm in reassurance. When he finally spoke, his bear imbued the syllables, but Trista was too thankful for the animal’s retreat to care.

  “What?”

  “Uh… I… Um…” The man seemed unable to get his message out.

  Peering around Keen, she spoke instead. It was one of the movers, she couldn’t remember his name, but he’d been all smiles as he’d worked downstairs. She smiled, attempting to calm him. “Is there something you needed?”

  “There’s a woman downstairs who—”

  Trista’s heart stilled and the blood in her veins froze. A woman. She’d met a few of Keen’s women over the past several days and while she was grateful they’d helped him through the years, she was jealous as hell. Which was stupid, but it was what it was.

  Keen’s snarl had the man snapping his mouth closed and she shoved a placating smile to her lips. “Thank you. We’ll be right down.”

  The man took his chance to escape and his race down the stairs thundered through the house. The second he was gone, she prodded Keen’s back. “C’mon, let’s see what this one wants.”

  Would there be no end to the women? Gah. She had to take comfort in the fact he hadn’t had sex with them all. That was reassuring. But they’d still touched his body, slept in his arms, and woken coated in his scent.

  Now her jealousy was rearing its ugly head while her inner-animal snarled and chuckled in her mind. Damn it, she needed to get a handle on this.

  He tugged her around until they faced one another again. “You know they didn’t mean anything to me. They were a means to an end.”

  She nodded. She knew, she did. “But not all of them realize that. And they still held a piece of you. I know it was nothing to you, but it was something to them.”

  Sadness and regret overtook his features. “Will we always have this between us?”

  “A little, not like it is today, but as I get to know you, it’ll lessen.” She smiled, hoping to reassure him. “I mean, I don’t want to bludgeon Helena to death anymore. That’s progress.”

  No, she just wanted to bury her alive, but she didn’t say that out loud.

  Raised voices reached them, muffled by the distance, but still audible. The anger circulating downstairs was unmistakable and it caused Keen to sigh in resignation.

  “C’mon. Let’s send this one on her way, too.”

  The annoyance in his expression and the slump in his shoulders almost made her happy. He looked forward to the confrontation as much as she did. That is to say, not at all.

  They trudged down the stairs, the voices growing louder the closer they got. By the time they neared the bottom step, Trista was ready to kick the people to the curb. A man and a woman argued somewhere on the first floor. It annoyed her that they’d gained access to the deeper parts of the house. It was her place, their place, and they’d intruded.

  At the bottom, Keen froze and she smacked into his back, not realizing he was gonna come to a sudden stop in the middle of their travels. It wasn’t hard to see past him, her position on a higher step making it a simple thing to tilt sideways and look at their intruders.

  Intruders that looked surprisingly like…

  “Mom? Dad? What are you doing here?” Keen’s voice cracked and Trista opened her eyes wide in shock.

  She couldn’t have suppressed her next words had she tried. “Oh fuck.”

  Keen’s mother smiled wide at her while his father glared at him.

  *

  Oh fuck. Yeah, that pretty much echoed Keen’s thoughts.

  His parents were here. In his house. In his family room amongst boxes and random furniture that still needed positioning. Trista’s rug hadn’t been delivered so they were waiting to place everything until it showed.

  And why the hell was he wondering about the rug when his parents were standing before him? In his house. In his family room.

  Now he was repeating himself.

  His mom bustled forward, arms spread and her smile wide. She looked like she did when he was five, all energy and happiness. She was the bright light in Keen’s world, the first woman to soothe his bear. Trista was his last.

  Trista.

  Oh fuck.

  He wasn’t ready to expose her to any more bears. Least of all ones who might hold the same opinions as Ty and Keen.

  “There’s my boy. Look at you.” She yanked him down the last step and then wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. She was like that; a hugger while his dad was more about grunts. “You look good and I love this house.” His mom looked around him and reached for his mate. “You must be Trista. Oh, honey, you’re beautiful. George, isn’t she beautiful. You’re going to make such pretty babies.”

  Trista stared at him with wide, fearful eyes and his mother kept chattering away as if she didn’t scent his mate’s unease and anxiety. That was his mom. She sorta bulldozed everyone.

  Before his mom could make off with Trista, he snatched his mate’s hand and yanked her close. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, keeping her captive.

  “Oh, George, do you see that? He’s already protective. That’s so sweet.” His mom pinched his cheek. Pinched it! “I knew he’d find the perfect woman.”

  His dad grunted in agreement. That was one thing he’d learned over the years. He could tell one grunt from another better than anyone. Surprising, since he hardly spent any time in his dad’s company. Not when his father was consumed with teaching Ty everything about being Itan.

  At the same time, he taught Keen how not to be a father.

  “Mom, what are you guys doing here?” He shoved the words passed panicked lips.

  “Well, you knew we were coming. Mia’s about to give birth and Lauren is pregnant and—”

  “After the birth, Ma. You weren’t supposed to be here for a few weeks.” It was what he’d counted on. It was going to give him time to get to know Trista before his parents descended. They hadn’t been the greatest parents, but they were the only ones he had, so Trista would have to meet them. Then, not now. Then.

  “Oh, well.” She waved her hand. “Ty called and he was in a tizzy—”

  His dad grunted again, telling Keen his father was disgusted with his eldest brother.

  “And then Van was being bothersome.”

  Another grunt. Okay, Dad was furious with Van.

  “So we came a little early to visit a little longer.” His mother finished with a wide smile as if all was right in the world.
r />   Dad’s latest grunt told him they were there to meddle.

  Great.

  “Plus, Isaac is on his way. He wasn’t going to come home for Mia, but I told him she’d feel better if the clan’s Healer was here.” Dad actually broke away from grunts for a snort which earned him a glare from Mom. “So he’ll be here tomorrow along with Mia’s father.”

  Isaac was supposed to be in Cutler, helping Mia’s father keep the town under control and lead the clan. It was one that Mia’s dad had once upon a time belonged to, but the old—now dead—Itan had been a dick and ran Mia and her parents out of town.

  “Won’t Cutler need them?” He wasn’t sure he could deal with Isaac if his brother’s hatred ran as deep as Van’s.

  “Oh, no, they have things fairly settled and calm.”

  Keen looked to his dad and noticed the eye roll. Wow, the old man had become rather demonstrative in his old age. “Okay, so everyone will be hanging around?”

  “Of course, dear.” His mother patted his chest. “Now, let me meet my new daughter-in-law and then we can tour the house. I love these old homes, all big and beautiful. Did I spy a treehouse in the backyard?” Mom tried to reach around him and he cut her off.

  He loved his mother, but he wasn’t about to inflict her on Trista. “Not without me.”

  His mom sniffed. “That’s rude.”

  “We can see it together. Dad, you want to come?” His father stuffed his hands in his pockets and gave a grunt Keen didn’t recognize.

  “No, you stay here with your father. I’ll keep—Trista is it?—company.” She stepped left and hopped up a stair before he could stop her.

  “Mom,” he murmured and that earned him another pat.

  “You talk with your father. I promise not to scare your mate away.”

  Keen flicked his gaze from his mom to his father and back again. “Mom…”

  “Show him the yard. Talk to him. You two haven’t ever done enough of that and you need to.” She reached down and actually swatted his ass as if he were a five-year-old being sent away. “Now, go.”

  With that, she snatched Trista’s hand and half-dragged his mate up the stairs. The last thing he saw was her fearful, panicked expression. If he wasn’t faced with having to speak with his father, he would have rescued her. As it was, he couldn’t exactly turn his back on the man who could—even at over sixty—kick his ass without trying. Ty wasn’t a match for Keen, but Dad… that was a different story.

  He stared at his father, trying his best to read the older man’s expression, and came up with nothing. It was a look he’d never seen on his dad’s face, one of guilt and sadness? Nah, it had to be indigestion or something.

  With a jerk of his chin, his dad urged him to the backyard and Keen took the silent order. They wove their way past the crooked piles of boxes and he pushed the back double doors open with a gentle nudge. They’d been left unlatched after bringing the massive couch into the house.

  Keen padded over the worn wood of the back porch and strode to the railing. He gripped the bar, using it for support as well as a reminder that he was human, that he had hands not claws and they needed to stay that way. He couldn’t let go of the banister, not for anything.

  “What really brought you here, Dad?”

  He got the usual sound, the one that told Keen he was being impatient and it annoyed his father. Fine, he’d keep his mouth shut then.

  With a sigh, his father took up position beside him, mirroring Keen’s stance.

  Then his dad spoke. It was only two words, but they would forever change Keen’s life.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He cleared his throat, stalling for time as he rolled those two words through his mind. His dad was sorry? Sorry?

  “For what?” Keen rasped, surprise still clouding his throat. He hadn’t heard of his father apologizing. To anyone. Ever.

  Dad coughed and he gripped the railing as hard as Keen, his knuckles white against the tan hue of his skin. “For Quinn.”

  Keen grimaced and turned his head, not wanting his dad to see the tears gathering in his eyes.

  “For Jessa,” he rasped.

  A shudder wracked his body and he fought to remain upright.

  “For it all,” his dad whispered. “For it all.”

  Keen pushed away from the railing, fighting his bear with every flex of muscle and shift of bone. The animal wanted to rage at his father. The man was apologizing too little, too late. He couldn’t change and suddenly become a normal bear who could keep his cool. A bear who wouldn’t shift and attack with the hint of disrespect.

  “I can’t do this.” Not today. Not now. Maybe not ever. His father’s voice followed him as he strode through the house, the familiar bass yelling for him to come back.

  It wasn’t happening.

  He raised his voice, loud enough to be heard through the whole home. “Trista!” He needed her, needed her skin beneath his palms and heat sinking into his soul. The bear was restless, nearing closer and closer to the edge of his control. “Trista!”

  The rapid thump of her feet on the old wood preceded her appearance. Eyes wide, a hint of panic in her gaze, and the animal was immediately focused on her. It wanted to destroy whatever scared her while soothing her as well. Convenient that he could handle both since he was the one that frightened her with his bellow.

  “Keen? Wha—?”

  He reached out and tugged her into his arms, breathing in her sweet scent and letting it soothe his heart. His father’s words tormented him, poked and prodded at old memories. Thankfully Trista was able to calm the raging beast.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, long and lingering as he brought in more of her flavors. “Grab your purse, we’re leaving.”

  “But—”

  “Please, Tris. I’ll explain, but I gotta get out of here right now.”

  Keen allowed her to pull away and he focused on her upturned face. Her eyes stroked him and she must have seen something that swayed her to listen to him. The next thing he knew, his mate was racing away, intent on doing as he asked. While she’d disappeared for a moment, his father entered the house as his mother delicately made her way down the stairs.

  “Keen Lincoln, what are you doing?” His mom’s voice was chiding and filled with love.

  “Trista and I are getting out of here.” He sighed. “I can’t do this, Mom.”

  She’d always acted as an intermediary. When she was available. The thought made him sound ungrateful, but the fact was, he still held a lot of bitterness where his parents were concerned. If it were simply a matter of them not being as attentive as he would have liked, it would have been fine. But their disinterest led to something far more dangerous, far more deadly. For which Quinn and Jessa paid the price.

  “I’m sorry.” Dad should have said that to Quinn’s and Jessa’s parents, not him.

  A hint of sadness and remorse filled her gaze and she reached for him, her thin aged hand trembling, and he stepped out of reach. “I can’t.” With Trista not at his side, he wasn’t sure how he’d react. Then his mate was with him, her hand in his, trust filling the connection. “Ask me to dinner, to visit, but don’t ask for forgiveness and don’t ask me to relive it.”

  Tears clouded his mother’s eyes. “And what about the family? Your brothers?”

  Keen gently squeezed Trista, welcoming the warmth her body emitted. “They made their choices and I made mine. This is my mate and we’ll make our own family.”

  “Don’t—Don’t run away like this, Keen, sweetheart, please. We don’t have to talk about— Let’s go out and—”

  He shook his head. “Not now, not today. I’m taking Trista shopping.” Anywhere they weren’t. “I’d appreciate it if you were gone when we returned.” He swallowed his heart cracking and healing in equal measure. Part of him ached for the approval and love of his parents. The other part, his bear, reminded him of the pain they’d caused. What made today any different from yesterd
ay or the day before? Nothing. No, it was Trista. Trista who he’d defended with his life while his brothers were so intent on ending hers.

  For once in Keen’s life, he’d stood up for himself and what he believed. For the first time in his life, he’d been the source of conflict within the family. He hadn’t been the crazy boy who was overlooked in favor of his brothers and he wasn’t the child that’d decimated… If he wouldn’t let his father talk about it, he’d be damned if he let those memories surface.

  He had to focus. They were here because he wasn’t acting like the Keen they knew. He didn’t look like the Keen they were familiar with because he wasn’t the Keen they’d grown up with. He was better. He had Trista.

  Chapter Twelve

  Keen’s emotions were palpable, flowing from his hand to hers as he led her toward his SUV. She sensed his unease, his anger, and frustration. As well as his vulnerability.

  Trista wasn’t sure what’d happened when he went to the porch with his father, but it had obviously not ended well. Judging by the blank mask covering his expression, she knew it’d been more than unsettling. He attempted to appear unaffected, but she knew him now.

  He helped her into the vehicle and then moved to his side, climbing behind the steering wheel. It didn’t take him long to get underway and racing along the streets of Grayslake.

  Instead of heading to the center of town where the stores were located, he picked a road out of Grayslake. He steered them toward the open fields that led to forests that led to… the lake.

  With his speed, it didn’t take long to arrive at their destination. The SUV bounced over the rise and fall of the earth, bumping over fallen trees and dipping into natural ditches, before he finally drew the vehicle to a sudden, dust-stirring stop.

  As the dirt cleared, she found herself staring at the smooth, placid surface of the lake, its soothing waves lapping at the rough shore.

  “Keen?” She reached out for him, gently laying her hand atop his forearm and brushing his smooth, fur-lined skin.

  “C’mon. I wanna show you something.” He pushed from the SUV, leaving her to scramble after him.