The Bears of Blackrock, Books 1 - 3: The Fenn Clan

by Michaela Wright

  He growled over her, the growl building to a roar as she came beneath him. He thrust four more angry times. Then his thrusts softened, and Kirk lowered himself over her, slumping there with his nose buried in her hair.

  They lay there in silence a moment, panting against each other, their sweat lingering between them. Joe lay there, Kirk still inside her, their breath slowing in tandem. She watched the beams in the ceiling overhead and felt her lip tremble. Joe’s hand went to her face, shielding herself from view in embarrassment as she began to cry.

  Kirk seemed to feel her body shuddering beneath him, lifting himself just enough to look at her. He touched his hand to hers, pulling it from her face. The sudden exposure made her grief flood to the surface even faster. She couldn’t explain this sudden upheaval, but it was as though the physical release had loosed some deep flood, and it was pouring to the surface with the force of a tidal wave.

  And he could see it. The thought that he might think less of her for crying only made the grief stronger. Kirk wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her against him as she buried her face into his shoulder.

  “I’m sorry! You must think I’m a basketcase.” She managed to whisper through sobs.

  He chuckled softly. “Sh. You have nothing to apologize for.”

  The gentle inflection of his voice – betraying patience and affection – only fueled her breakdown, and she found herself clutching him to her, sobbing uncontrollably as he held her, running his big hands over her tangled hair.

  He rolled them onto their sides, pulling her close as he kissed her forehead and pulled the quilt over them. “You’re safe, Josephine. And you’re wanted.”

  Her hand shot to her face again, shielding herself as these words settled into her core and fought to take root there. How had he known what to say?

  He ran his fingers into her hair, brushing his thumb to her ear, and he held her until the tears were spent.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Despite a shower and the passage of hours, Kirk could still smell her on his skin as they climbed out of the truck in the Blackrock Middle School parking lot.

  Josephine moved with a new, almost strange self-awareness, as though she was always half expecting to find him glancing her way. It was an appropriate expectation. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

  He knew now how she moved in the dark, knew the taste of her. Instead of drawing confidence from their shared intimacy, she seemed to feel almost exposed by it, blushing and looking away whenever she caught his eyes on her. They spent the band concert in the back row of the auditorium, Joe clapping and hollering the loudest of all, despite shrinking under his gaze. He reached over and squeezed her thigh halfway through Hot Cross Buns. She blushed and he was sure her body temperature raised by at least two degrees.

  Kirk listened to the cacophony of the Middle School band, showing their first notes, to their first songs, with errant, off-key notes peppered throughout. Each one drew a smile, but he watched appreciatively, waving back to Rory when she spotted them in the crowd, her nose crinkling as she waved excitedly.

  Despite the trepidation of Joe’s demeanor, he caught her smiling to herself as well, her hand shooting to cover her face every few moments as a grin spread over her lips, and her nose crinkled in the familiar expression she shared with her daughter. He tried desperately not to imagine his own children making the same expression.

  Cut it out, Kirk, he thought.

  Still, he was a Fenn. The thought of having found the woman that might make him a father made his heart ache. Especially if his children turned out anything like the little girl on that band stage.

  They’d made love more than once that day, each time growing more adventurous and easy with the other’s touch. Her tears ceased soon enough, giving way to laughter and comfort like nothing he’d ever experienced before. He couldn’t wait to get her back home. Yet, as they sat in the Middle School auditorium, watching Rory Little play her clarinet with focused determination, he wondered how he might steal a moment with the little girl’s mother and not betray the knowledge of their tryst to Rory. She was a smart girl. She’d figure it out soon enough – but would her mother want her to know?

  He still harbored a fear that she’d up and leave – that this spell would be broken and he’d one day find the house empty, no sign left to betray the presence of this woman or the child he’d cared for. He was in over his head, and his heart was in constant flux as they stood up to applaud the end of Rory’s first band concert, Josephine’s hip brushing against his.

  The crowds filtered out into the cold air, all oohing and awing as they arrived outside to find it had started snowing while they were in the concert, an inch deep blanket of new snow over everything. Even Joe smiled at the sight of it, commenting on the fickle nature of Maine’s weather.

  “Did you like it? What did you think? What was your favorite song?” Rory asked as they pulled out of the parking lot of the school.

  Kirk smiled into the rear view at her. “I think Hot Cross Buns is always a winner.”

  “That was a good one!” Joe said. “But I think you guys nailed that Mozart piece.”

  Rory made a face. “We didn’t do Mozart.”

  Kirk and Josephine both glanced back to her. “You sure did,” they said in unison. They both paused, glancing at each other before Kirk turned his eyes back to the road, smiling.

  “Twinkle Little Star is by Mozart,” Joe said, smiling.

  Rory’s eyes went wide. “It is?”

  Rory and her mother chatted about band practice and how well Rory was getting along with her music teacher until they reached the Fenn property gate. Kirk hopped out to open it quickly, the smell of wood smoke thick in the air. He climbed back in, a shudder of chill creeping down his spine as he settled back into his seat.

  “He says I could be really good soon. And maybe I will have a solo in the next concert.”

  “That would be great!” Joe said.

  Kirk shot her a glance, a fleeting sense of excitement at the comment. The next concert wouldn’t be for months. Did she plan to stay that long?

  Please God, let her stay.

  Kirk kept his pace slow as they drove down the dirt road. His grandfather would plow in the early morning if the snow continued to accumulate, but for now, Kirk just trudged his four wheel drive way down the snow covered road, passing Janice and Carl Fenn’s house, their chimney belching smoke in the wintry evening.

  “He says I need to practice more with Gracie, though. If I want to get that good.”

  Kirk and Joe shot each other a look, and Joe smiled. “That’s a good idea. You can go toot your horn up over the garage, maybe?”

  Kirk nodded. “That sounds like a perfect idea.”

  The truck bucked beneath them, then shuddered downward, a rhythmic thumping sound betraying a flat tire. Kirk slammed on the brakes, pulling over just enough to allow another vehicle to pass if needed.

  “What happened?” Rory asked from the backseat, her voice betraying worry.

  Kirk raised a hand to still her concerns. “No worries, sweetheart. Just sounds like a flat tire.”

  “Shit! Do you have a spare? This isn’t the weather to be changing a tire in,” Joe said, squeezing his hand as he opened the driver’s side door to climb out.

  He shrugged. “I’m a hot blooded guy. It won’t take more than a few minutes. We’re not even a quarter mile from home if you two want to hoof it while I take care of it.”

  “No!” Joe said, betraying a sudden edge in her tone. She quickly tried to regain her composure. “No, no. We’ll stay with you. It wouldn’t be any fun in the house all alone.”

  Kirk shot her a look, smiling, but he knew the meaning behind her words. In the bliss of that afternoon, he’d almost forgotten.

  Kirk stepped out of the truck and felt the same shudder creep up his spine. The air smelled of winter and smoke, like any other snowy night. He turned toward the white washed field, then glanced toward the trees. The night wa
s dark, and the falling snow hid much of the world from view, but even snowblind, something felt strange in the tranquil space. He glanced down at the front tire, frowning. It wasn’t just flat; it was blown out.

  He sighed, frustrated. “Jesus! What did we run over?” He said to himself as he headed to the back of the truck for the spare. He marched around the back of the truck, an inexplicable sense of urgency rising in his chest. He reached the truck bed before he noticed the back tire – it was blown out as well. Kirk’s brow furrowed as he checked the other side of the truck, quickly.

  All four tires were flat.

  “Josie, honey? Do you have any signal on your phone? Can you call a number for me?”

  He stood at the back of the truck, the hair on his arms rising.

  “No, it says no signal. Do you need help?”

  Kirk swallowed and rounded the truck to the driver’s side door. He took a breath, steadying himself before he spoke. “Why don’t you guys climb out and we’ll trek up to the house, alright?”

  “Is something wrong?” Joe asked, and her tone was instantly shaken.

  “It’s fine. Just blew more than one tire. I need to call Gramps and get him down here to move the truck for me.”

  Joe snatched her phone up again, frowning. “I can try again? Maybe if I move around -”

  Joe opened the passenger door to the truck and began to climb out. Kirk was around the truck in an instant to meet her. She startled at his sudden urgency, searching his face. He silently cursed himself for letting her see his nerves. Damn it, she needs you to be calm. She needs you to be fearless. Don’t let her see your hackles are up.

  “Yeah, let’s just walk guys. I can call from the house phone. You have your jacket back there, meatball?”

  Rory wrapped herself up, clutching her clarinet case to her chest as she climbed out into the snow. Kirk wrapped his own coat around Josephine and they began to walk, his forearms bare against the cold.

  The snow crunched under foot, their boots leaving perfect prints as they made their way down the road. Kirk rubbed his hand over Rory’s arm, pulling her into him as they marched along. The truck betrayed the random ticks and hums of a cooling engine in the distance behind them, but otherwise, the world was silent, save for the strange tussle of snowflakes landing on the drifts along the edge of the road. The dirt road was framed by four foot banks left by Patrick Fenn’s plow truck on his previous pass. Rory crossed a bit closer to Kirk as Josephine marched ahead of them by a couple lengths, her own nerves beginning to betray her. There was something mysterious and beautiful about the world at that moment, but sadly Kirk couldn’t appreciate it. All he could think of was getting this precious cargo of his inside the house, and behind locked doors.

  What the hell had blown out all four tires?

  The smell caught him so suddenly, he almost swung a fist. He spun around just in time to hear the engine of his crippled truck roar, and the tires kick in the gravel. The massive vehicle took off, barreling toward them in the dark, its V6 engine roaring to life with murderous intent. There was no time. Josephine was yards away, Rory beside him, her fear cutting through the smell of the cold. He couldn’t save them both. It was one or the other, both trapped at the center of the road, four foot snow drifts on either side. No more than a second to choose. No more than a second.

  He couldn’t choose.

  Kirk grabbed Rory by the coat and threw her full tilt over the nearest snow drift, her small body disappearing out of view of the headlights as Josephine approached behind him.

  Kirk squared his legs, leaned forward, and felt the familiar shudder through his body as he shifted into the bear. He heard Josephine scream again as he planted his front paws into the snow, and with a silent prayer, heaved his whole body into the oncoming truck.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Josephine scrambled backward through the snow, unable to breathe. She stared into the blaring lights of the truck, trying desperately to make sense of what she’d just seen, but an instant later, remembered – Rory.

  Josephine jumped to her feet and ran for the side of the road. The scene that lay before her was too much to take, so she pretended not to see it – not to see the shattered windshield and the blond figure now hunched prone over the steering wheel, shards of glass scattered all over him. And above all, she pretended not to see the broken animal that lay seemingly lifeless in the middle of the road, the front bumper of the truck imploded around him.

  That creature wasn’t Kirk. It couldn’t be Kirk. What she’d seen was impossible. Kirk was ok. Kirk was somewhere, unharmed. It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t be him!

  “Momma?”

  Joe cried out in a mix of relief and despair, grabbing her daughter from the top of the snow pile as she tried to climb over. Rory clutched her mother a moment, hugging her tightly. Then she began to squirm.

  “Kirk? Kirk!”

  Rory tore from her mother’s arms and rushed toward the truck, dropping to her knees beside the bloodied bear. “Kirk! Wake up! Don’t be hurt! Wake up, please!”

  Joe stumbled forward, the revelation of her daughter’s words breaking her heart with each step. “Get away, baby. Don’t touch it -”

  “Kirk, wake up! Please!!” Rory cried, shoving her whole body weight into the limp and massive beast.

  Josephine drew close enough to see blood beneath the fur, and tatters of the flannel shirt Kirk had been wearing clinging to the wet beast.

  “Rory, come away! Please,” she said, sobbing.

  Rory ignored her, grabbing at the fur and yanking, screaming. The bear rumbled, suddenly. Despite the impossibility of what she’d seen, Joe’s heart leapt to see the beast lived.

  Oh god, please be alive. Please, just be alive.

  Yet, even as hope sprung in her heart, another movement stilled her in abject terror. The blond figure in the cab of the truck was waking up, too. Josephine recoiled, fear leaving her helpless.

  “Momma! He’s alive. Momma!?” Rory called from the bear’s side.

  Joe reached down to Rory as Carson lifted his head, shaking away glass shards from his hair. She grabbed hold of Rory’s coat and yanked her to her feet.

  Rory cried out in protest just as the bear’s shape began to change. The dark fur retreated, leaving bare, bloodied skin free to the cold air. Joe’s stomach turned as she watched the massive beast shrink into the familiar shape of Kirk Fenn, his blood splattered into the snow around him. The two men seemed to come to at even speed. Carson climbing out of the truck just as Kirk pushed himself up onto his feet. How could he be alive? How was it possible? He’d taken a pickup truck at full speed, how could he have survived that?

  Kirk’s left arm hung useless, his bare chest scraped and bleeding, but he steadied himself there, naked. He was wounded, barely upright, but by some miracle, he was alive.

  Joe turned to Rory, dropping to her level to speak to her. “Run home, baby. Run back to the house and hide. Can you do that for me?”

  Rory’s brow furrowed, ready to protest, but Joe shook her softly.

  “Please do as you’re told, damn it! Hide so well, even Momma can’t find you. Please, baby.”

  Rory shot a glance toward Kirk, seemingly satisfied with the knowledge he was alive, then as her lip quivered, she nodded her agreement to her mother.

  Rory was running down the snowy road a second later, the hood of her puffy jacket bouncing wildly at her back.

  “What the fuck are you, man?”

  The voice felt like a nail gun to the nape of her neck, but Joe turned to watch as Carson stared at the naked man in the road, his eyes wide in disbelief. Kirk stood his ground there, looking broken, but sturdy.

  Joe searched for words, wanting desperately to protect Kirk, wanting to scream out against this monster she knew too well, but just his presence left her frozen, and she hadn’t the courage to say a word. He stole her courage. He held power over her that was unbreakable, and she hated him for it.

  “I suggest you get off my land,�
�� Kirk said, the words muffled by what she could only assume was a wounded jaw.

  Carson snorted, his own stature hinting at unseen injury. “I don’t think so, pal. I’ve got something I need to take care of before I go.”

  “There’s nothing here for you. I suggest you go.”

  Carson chuckled again, but then his eyes went dark with malice. “I’ll go when I’ve taken what’s mine.”

  Kirk stepped forward, and Carson recoiled. A familiar rage crossed his face at having shown weakness, and he glared at Kirk. She knew that expression well. Then Carson seemed to catch himself, smirking. “How do you expect me to take you seriously there, guy?”

  Carson gestured to Kirk’s naked state just as Kirk straightened, turning to look back down the road toward the house.

  “What’s the matter?” Carson said, then he laughed to himself.

  Kirk’s expression changed, and he took off, moving fast despite limping.

  “Kirk, where are you going?!” She screamed, terrified to be left in the company of the man who haunted her dreams. Yet, she saw what it was that Kirk saw – a subtle yellow and orange glow was growing through the trees, flickering around the house as a gray tower of smoke belched up from therein.

  The house was on fire.

  “Nice job telling our daughter to go hide where even you couldn’t find her, huh?”

  Joe took off running. What had she done?

  Kirk was gaining speed, and Joe followed close behind, screaming Rory’s name as she stomped over Kirk’s bloody footprints.

  Kirk was up the driveway and running around the house before Joe could follow. She stopped for an instant at the driveway, her insides buckling at the sight of the flames rising from the roof over the garage.

  “No, no, no!” She screamed, running around the house toward the deck. She reached the high windows and lunged for the glass doors. Kirk grabbed hold of her hand, pulling her away.

  She fought him, trying desperately to pull free, but he held her there. “Stop, Josephine! Stop! You can’t open the door.”