Bear Fursuits Books 1-4: Bear Fursuits

by Montrose, Isadora

  This was all very well when he had been making love with her and was nude. It was less so when he changed while wearing clothes. Vanya had left some other garments in the tent when he took off, but they were rapidly being reduced to rags.

  “You need to take your clothes off before you take bear,” she told him.

  His cheekbones blazed red. “Sorry,” he muttered looking ashamed, and worried and addled in equal parts. She patted his brawny arm in apology for her sharpness. And she reserved Vanya’s enormous, baggy rain pants and jacket, so he could at least be covered when they returned to the world.

  His random changes continued. They seemed to be triggered by stress. And recovering his memories seemed to be endlessly stressing. His dreams seemed to be mostly nightmares—she woke every night to find him writhing beside her, damp with sweat and clutching his head, moaning in agony.

  If she managed to wake him, he made love to her like a drowning man clutching at a life raft and fell asleep like a stone falling into deep water. But she was not always quick enough. She woke one morning just before dawn, to find her giant half-way through his metamorphosis. All she could do was leave the little tent, lest he injure her unawares.

  She re-lit her camp stove to make coffee, and kept watch outside the tent. Roman switched back and forth a half dozen times. No wonder he was always so tired. He was using up an enormous amount of energy in his frequent uncontrolled changes. When he was a man he cried out, “No,” and flailed his arms about as if he were being attacked. He streamed with sweat and his face was a mask of terror and despair.

  When he finally awoke it was long past sunrise and the pileated woodpecker had been thrumming against his tree for hours. Gabby had not yet found its nest, but she planned to keep looking. A pileated typically excavated a three by one foot nest cavity—it should have been easy to spot a scar that big, and a bird the size of a crow. In the meanwhile, she found the drumming noise soothing.

  Roman emerged from their tent scratching his chest and blinking owlishly. He seemed stunned. He was ravenous and gobbled his breakfast and suggested they go foraging. He wanted them to take bear and go to the river.

  “Do you think that’s wise?” she ventured. “Didn’t you promise Van you would stay a man?”

  “Not promised.” His face was stubborn. “I need to be in bear.”

  So they passed a pleasant few hours cavorting in the river before swimming upstream to a cataract. Once they had reached this Roman stood directly beneath it and allowed the icy deluge to pound his skull. Gabby tried to stand beside him, but the force of the waterfall knocked her off her feet and swept her downstream to a deep pool.

  It was an exhilarating experience, but too dangerous to be repeated. She spent a worried hour floating in the pool, occasionally snagging a trout, and watching the sun get first higher then lower. When Roman rejoined her he did seem less frantic. He bolted the fish she had saved for him and led the way back to camp by a route they had not taken before.

  It was a joy to her to be out in the wild country, surrounded by the verdant green of the temporal rain forest and the myriad birds and creatures that lived in it. Apparently her bear also thought it was paradise because he stopped several times to prepare a feast for her.

  Despite her anxiety over Roman’s continued memory loss, she was content. He completed her. Together they made a whole that was greater than the sum of their separate selves. She would be patient and let her love heal her mate.

  At her food cache she found her storage canisters had been replenished. There were Roman-sized garments in the tent. Uncle Van had not abandoned them. But where exactly was the wily old Ukrainian?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  April had turned into May. The pileated woodpecker remained elusive. Gabby told herself that was because it was really Vanya, but Roman seemed unsure that Vanya was anywhere near.

  To her anxious observation, he seemed less disoriented Although she wondered if she was deceiving herself. She was no doctor. He still had no memory of his accident. She had told him he had crashed over the Cascades, but the information created even more perplexity in her bear. He scowled and grumbled and stormed out of camp, returning hours later still surly and uncommunicative.

  She resigned herself to the fact that he might never again be quite the same confident, good-humored, Alpha male she had fallen for in Wesheno. Deal with it, she told herself. She loved him and that would never change. She was happier than she had been for three years, and each day her happiness increased.

  That night as they lay in a sweaty tangle, he asked her if he had killed his crew.

  “There was no crew,” she reassured him. “You were flying solo when you crashed. Air Force was looking for just you.”

  “No crew?”

  “Nope. Just you, my love, and their top secret aircraft.”

  Roman turned away from his mate to ponder this astounding fact. He had recalled that he flew helicopters. Top secret stealth helicopters that were too classified to be discussed with anyone. Not even with Gabby. But he always flew with a crew who performed the work of rescue or defense or attack. Without them the best pilot was only joyriding.

  Joyriding? Had he taken a military aircraft for a pleasure ride and destroyed it? Every fiber of his being rejected that hypothesis. He was no fool. And no traitor. It would be an act of treason to steal a top secret military helicopter. Therefore he had not.

  How had he survived a crash that had destroyed his plane? He brooded for several more days and endured more dreams of falling into the pit before he asked Gabby more questions.

  “Why was I over the Cascades?” he inquired.

  She shrugged. “The Air Force never said. They merely said you were flying an experimental aircraft—unspecified—and there was a fire and you were ejected by said aircraft.”

  “Huh. That’s it?”

  “Well, no. A year ago they announced that they that after months of investigative work they were confident that they had pinpointed the cause of the crash. And although they wouldn’t release their findings, they did say that they had ruled out operator error or terrorism.”

  He grabbed her shoulders and stared into her eyes with blazing golden orbs. “I didn’t cause the crash?” he demanded.

  “Not unless they’re covering up for you.”

  “I didn’t kill anybody?”

  “Nope.”

  That night, for the first time, since she had found him, Roman slept beside her soundlessly, dreamlessly.

  * * *

  Roman opened his eyes to the glow of sunlight illuminating the little tent through the blue fabric. His memory flooded back fully intact. He recalled flying the sleuth fighter. The fire in the instrument panel. Being ejected and opening his parachute. Landing hard in the tree canopy and getting hurt.

  He remembered changing to bear. His life as a bear seemed composed of blurry images until the day that Gabby and Van had appeared. Their time together in the woods blended seamlessly with their long distance courtship. He touched his head, the ache that had been his constant companion since the accident was gone. The fog that had obscured his memories had vanished.

  Gabriella smiled at her naked lover when he emerged from their tent. She brought him coffee and a kiss. He gulped it in one swallow and tossed the mug aside. He picked her up by her swelling waist in his powerful hands and spun her in a big circle. “I’ve remembered,” he told her joyfully.

  Her hands gripped his face. She shook with sudden hope. “What have you remembered?”

  “The Air Force. The Academy. You. Lenny’s roof. The crash. Everything.” Thoughts of babies and Gabriella swirled in his newly alert brain. Roman felt rejuvenated. “I love you,” he said. He put her down gently.

  He dropped to one knee and took her hand. “You’ve brought me back to myself,” he said solemnly. “You’ve healed me.” He kissed her hand. “Will you marry me, Gabriella Malcom, and be my love forever?”

  “In a heartbeat.” Gabby laughed for sheer joy.
She had done the impossible. She had found her lover and restored him to himself.

  He picked her up and lifted her off the ground for his kiss. Reluctantly he set her back down and ignored his importunate pecker.

  “I bought you a ring,” he said. “I was going to ask you to marry me that Christmas.”

  “I know.”

  “Don’t know where that ring is, but the world is full of pretty diamonds.” He picked her up and kissed her again.

  “Gabby Malcom is going to marry me,” he bellowed to the surrounding forest.

  Gabby giggled at his exuberance. He kissed her again.

  “You’re pregnant,” he informed her briskly, not bothering to disguise his masculine satisfaction in his accomplishment. “We need to get married sooner rather than later.”

  Gabby’s eyes widened at his tone. How well she knew that assured voice of command. She looked around her and laughed. Her Alpha male officer was back and in charge.

  Out in the forest, the thrumming of the pileated woodpecker ceased and he piped his love song high and clear to his mate. Roman ducked into the tent to find some pants.

  The woodpecker ended his song. Uncle Vanya hulloed as Roman came back out of the tent, before striding out of the forest. Vanya’s chest seemed to have expanded to its former breadth. His stoop was gone. His mustaches were spread like the wings of some jubilant white bird. His beard jutted jauntily. He beamed paternally at Gabby and Roman.

  “Babies is more better,” he assured them triumphantly. “But first we have big, big wedding.”

  <<<<<<>>>>>>

  BEARCUBS

  FOR

  CHRISTMAS

  A

  BEAR FURSUITS

  CHRISTMAS STORY

  by

  ISADORA MONTROSE

  CHAPTER ONE

  "You sit tight, honey," Jack Enright said to his wife as he pulled their SUV in as close to his parents front walk as possible. "I don't want you taking a chance in this drizzle."

  Hannah Enright smiled at her worried husband. She absently rubbed her enormous belly which was visible through her unzipped jacket. Jack was a can-do sort of guy—twenty years in the Marines had a way of honing practicality—but shepherding her through her first pregnancy had taken its toll. His jaw was set, his eyes were wary, and he was battle ready.

  Hannah resisted the impulse to open her own door and descend from the vehicle and totter up the stone path under her own steam. Jack’s parents were already waiting to welcome them into the warmth and light of their cozy home. She was no weakling, and she treasured her independence. However, she had to admit that constant rain had left the entire Pacific Northwest a great, slippery trip-hazard for a woman carrying triplets.

  Jack opened Hannah's door and assessed his mate for damage. She looked radiantly beautiful in her red parka, but he noted indignantly that it was unzipped. Hadn't he made it plain she should just keep buying new ones as her pregnancy advanced? He didn't want her risking a chill because her coat was too small.

  "Gosh, I'm warm," Hannah said. "I can't wait to get out of this." She noticed that Jack hadn't bothered with a sweater or jacket was wearing his shirt open at the neck. But she didn't object to his double standard—she was pretty much resigned to his fussing. In fact, if Jack got any more concerned about her, she fully expect to be swathed in bubble wrap next.

  Jack lifted his mate bodily from the car. He briefly contemplated setting her on her feet to negotiate the flagstones, but decided against it. He carried her in his arms to the doorway and set her gently on the hall rug.

  "Merry Christmas, daughter," Katrina Enright said enthusiastically as she helped Hannah off with her coat.

  Edward Enright bent and kissed his daughter-in-law on both cheeks. "Merry Christmas, Hannah."

  "You will want to get off your feet," Katrina announced and led her to the big, crowded, noisy living room. She shooed a trio of small children from a recliner and ensconced Hannah with her feet elevated.

  Small groups of Katrina and Ed's many grandchildren played on the living room carpet. The fireplace was filled with a large TV playing a video of a fire. Baba had refused to risk open flames with so many youngsters in the house.

  Hannah smiled and enjoyed being fussed over. After a motherless lifetime, she suddenly had all the maternal cosseting anyone could wish for. She had her mother-in-law Katrina who loved her, in Hanover. And she had her adoptive clan Mama Bears, Winnie and Jools Malcom, at home in Seattle. She was a lucky woman.

  She didn't actually need to be resting—she had been resting all day—but she was perfectly happy to sit in the big room and admire the gigantic Christmas tree and talk to the family. From across the room her sister-in-law Madeline St. Clair Enright raised her cup to her in greeting. Maddie's pregnancy was not as advanced as her own, but plainly Katrina had decided she too needed to put her feet up.

  Jack's brothers Tom, Sam and Doug, wandered over to kiss her cheek and check out her bump with knowing eyes. They didn't comment to her, but she felt like a prize cow being judged. Their wives were more direct.

  "Does your back hurt," Sam's wife Millie asked.

  Hannah squirmed and leaned back. "A little," she confessed, although she deliberately did not mention the contractions that had plagued her all day. She rubbed her tummy where bulges came and went. "These cubs seem to spend all their days wrestling."

  "Not long now," sympathized Tom's wife Lucy. She was holding one of her three four-month-olds in the crook of her arm.

  "Another month." Hannah held up her hands for the baby. "Which one is this?" she asked, bouncing the cooing infant.

  "Can't you tell?" teased Lucy.

  Hannah gurgled. The baby had the same soft, lint blonde cap of curls as its littermates and the same big brown eyes. "Nope."

  "That's Teddy," said Millie helpfully.

  "He's grown," Hannah said hoisting the baby into the air so that he giggled and began to babble.

  Big hands snatched little Teddy from her hands and the baby's cries of delight turned into louder chortling, as he was held close to Uncle Jack's hard chest and allowed to peep over his shoulder. "This bruiser is too heavy for you to lift," scolded Jack. He glared at his sisters-in-law.

  "And a Merry Christmas to you, too," Lucy said.

  Millie laughed. "Hannah's fine," she assured Jack. "She can hold a baby for a little while."

  Jack kissed his sisters-in-law and explained. "Doctor said no lifting, no exertion, no overdoing—if she's to go to term." He rubbed baby Teddy's back absently as he spoke.

  "My job is to sit on a stool and be a princess until I give birth," Hannah explained.

  Millie and Lucy's eyes were sympathetic and they chuckled, but they knew better than to argue with the decree of a shifter mate-guarding. Jack wouldn't be reasonable until after Hannah had safely delivered her three babies.

  Katrina appeared with a large, steaming mug which she handed to Hannah.

  "What's that?" demanded Jack.

  All four women turned identical expressions of disbelief on him.

  "Is straight vodka," snapped Katrina. "I poison my daughter and my grandbabies because is big fool I am." Because she was Ukrainian by birth, her English grammar often failed her in moments of emotion.

  "Mulled fresh cider," Hannah told her husband. "I'm perfectly okay," she assured him. "I'm going to visit with Lucy and Millie and Katrina—if they don't have to be in the kitchen."

  "Everything is ready," Katrina assured her. "First we talk, then we feed the babies, then we eat. Next year we rent hall."

  Everyone laughed because Katrina was always threatening to rent a hall, but nothing was less likely.

  Jack said, "What you need is an extension on the house just for big gatherings."

  "That is good idea," Katrina told him with a big smile. "You go tell your Poppa I said so."

  Jack wandered off with Teddy held securely against his shoulder.

  "He will have big argument with his Poppa," Katrina said merrily. "
But he needs distraction. How you feeling?" she asked Hannah.

  "Big, uncomfortable. I need to go pee every twenty seconds, but..."

  "That's normal," chorused Katrina and Milly and Lucy.

  "You mean right this minute?" asked Katrina.

  "Yup."

  The other women helped Hannah out of the deep chair, and Lucy walked her to the powder room.

  "I can go to the bathroom unescorted," protested Hannah. "Been toilet trained for years."

  Lucy laughed. "Jack would be in a panic, sure you were having premature labor." Her light voice held a question.