MARS (BBW Bear Shifter MC Romance) (MC Bear Mates Book 1)

by Becca Fanning

  Kiko’s mouth popped open. “Me?” Mundo clapped him on the back, as did Major. The congratulatory slaps had Kiko coughing, but he gulped it back and whispered, “Thanks, Mars.”

  He jerked a shoulder. “You three are the guys I want at my back.”

  With that, and knowing he’d left all three of them feeling pleased with themselves, he turned to his mate and started to coax her back to the clubhouse.

  Behind him, the crowds of men began to make more and more sound. Before long, the beers would be out, liquor would be overflowing, and the bunnies would be hopping in and out stirring up shit among the men before satisfying them the only way they knew how—on their backs. Mars would have been in the thick of it had he not discovered his mate, but instead, he had Annette, and she was the only woman he was interested in.

  He rested a hand on the bottom of her back and as he guided her through the doors that led to the terrace, he murmured, “You okay?”

  I’m fine. But then, I wasn’t the one beaten up by a grizzly bear. “Shit.” She swallowed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”

  He scraped a hand over the back of his neck, touched by this new discovery. It’s okay, he told her. Now you’ve opened up the channel, it will get easier for us to communicate like this.

  A shaky sigh escaped her. This all seems too incredible for words.

  Probably because it is. I mean it, Annette, how you doing? I know what you just saw must seem insane, but you understand that I had no choice, right?

  She eyed him askance a second, then snickered. You think it freaks me out that you did away with a bastard who managed to get me shot and then almost got you killed because you had to do some freaky trade off with some Goddesses?

  Most women would probably be concerned. He felt it only fair to remind her of that.

  Yeah, well, I’m not most women. I’m not bloodthirsty, and I didn’t like seeing it, but then I realized, when you couldn’t shift, he was relying on that to win. He was a coward, trying to challenge you when you were weak and at your most vulnerable.

  I figured as much myself, he confessed, not particularly appreciating that his mate knew he had vulnerabilities. Of course, he did, and of course she knew they existed, but still, the bear was pissed. He wanted to be invincible in her eyes, and that was never going to happen now.

  What happens now you’re Prez?

  Now, she sounded curious. And he could understand. His answers were about to affect her and her future. For that reason, he knew there would be changes afoot. “We’re always going to run on the wrong side of the law, Annette,” he cautioned her, his tone wary as they took the steps up to the landing where their temporary quarters were.

  She didn’t answer immediately, waited until he’d opened the door for her and they were ensconced in the privacy of their own rooms. There was an L-shaped sofa at an angle to the bed, and she took a seat on the thickly padded cushions, settling herself amid them like a queen positioning herself on a throne.

  For all intents and purposes, she was a queen in this clubhouse; she just didn’t know it yet.

  “You’re an MC, Mars. I never expected you to hand out candy at a charity gala for cops.”

  He snorted at that. “Very wise of you,” he teased, liking how her eyes flashed with amusement, but liking even more how relaxed she looked, how at ease she was with him and this conversation.

  Whatever his mate was, whether or not she’d been diagnosed with letters and conditions that hadn’t existed when he’d been born, she was made of strong stuff. And he didn’t care what anyone else had to say about it, she was tough as nails.

  “I’m a wise woman, I’ll have you know.”

  Just as with his room, there was a small fridge but it was tucked away in the closet. He grabbed her a bottle of water and took an energy drink for himself. Before he handed her the water, he popped the tab on his can and took a deep sip. It was rude but he needed the sugar. Christ, he needed it desperately. The fight had drained him, and adrenaline and the need to protect Annette had been the only things keeping him upright and ready to tear Jackson a new one.

  Annette seemed to sense he was unsteady on his feet because she watched him like a hawk, and only relaxed her intent regard when he flopped onto the sofa, taking in another pull of the soda.

  “You put on a good show out there,” was all she said, still studying him but a little less rigidly now.

  “What do you mean?” he asked, cocking a brow.

  She shrugged then opened her bottle of water. “What with the fight, the way you led Jackson on a merry chase... Then after, even though you were injured, you kept it together. You didn’t let them know you were weak or feeling the effects of the fight.”

  “It doesn’t do to let tens of dozens of shifters know you’re weak.”

  That had her pursing her lips. “I saw for myself that a good many of those men out there would die for you.”

  Despite himself, that had warmth coursing through him. He was a loyal man himself, and he knew he inspired it in others. But such a loyalty was rarely received, especially in the other younger generations. To have earned it, and for it to be visible enough for his mate to have caught sight of it, filled him with pride.

  “I didn’t want to disappoint them,” he told her rather than comment on her remark.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not leadership material.”

  Another snort cropped up. “What makes you think that?”

  “I’ve never wanted to be leader.”

  “Most of the good ones never do.” She ran a hand through her ragged hair; a move that distracted her because she grimaced. “I need a bath.”

  The notion had him groaning as well. “Shit, me too.”

  They stared at each other a second then chuckled.

  “Is there one here?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. There’s a hot tub too.”

  “Which is more private?”

  “The bath. There’s a lock on the door. The hot tub… well—”

  “Let me guess, privacy isn’t appreciated.”

  He just jerked a shoulder by way of a reply. “My only problem is, if I’d known I was getting up so soon, I wouldn’t have sat down.”

  “You’re not feeling too good, are you?”

  Mars grimaced. “No. Like death warmed up.” He carefully patted his belly. “It’s this one. The shift took care of the worst of it. It made sure to stop the bleeding, but it’s bad enough that that’s all it’s done.”

  “Is a bath going to do it more harm than good?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know, but I don’t care. I’m more aches than anything else. I need to soak some of them away.”

  “Then, that’s what we’ll do,” she told him, a simple smile on her face, one that made his heart quicken.

  She was a taunting mixture of siren and saint. Taunting because to him, she was the epitome of both, and both could stir his heart and harden his cock. She teased him with her curves, her smiles, her hot looks, and the wisdom that sat so well on her young shoulders. But she was saintly in her prim view of the world, the way she moved about with a lack of artifice that spoke of speed rather than a desire to inspire sinful thoughts. She was straightforward, abrupt with it. And the combination of the two just made her perfect for him. But then, what did he expect when she was his?

  Expressly made for him?

  She got to her feet, then approached him and held out her hands. As she moved about, he had to question how she made the sheet stay up, because he preferred to think about that than standing up and relying on her to hobble down the corridor to the bath.

  He hated being weak; had always hated showing a vulnerable side to anyone. But he knew Annette wasn’t just anyone, she was his mate, and as such, the one person who deserved to see it. Hell, it was more than a case of her deserving it; she was going to see it whether he liked it or not.

  The rest of the world would see the public Mars, but she would see the one that came with w
arts and all. A part of him wanted to shield her from that side of himself, to present her with the very best version there was of Mars Donner, but they’d live too long a life together to constantly being playing charades, and truth was, if he played it that way, she might do the same, and crazy though it was, he wanted to see her true colors too. He wanted to scrape his foot down over her calf one day and feel the prickles of unshaved hair. He wanted to kiss her even when she had morning breath, and he wanted to see her upset, at her worst, and be able to comfort her. To give her something only he could give her—himself—and for that to be enough to calm her down.

  More than anything, and even though it was far too soon to be thinking of these matters, he wanted to give her cubs. He wanted to see her round with the children he gave her, to see her sweating and swearing as she brought them into this world, and then kiss away the tears of laughter and sorrow when his cubs, their children, disappointed and pleased her…

  The thoughts stirred him enough to get to his feet. It hurt, by the Goddesses did it hurt, but he managed it. Panting, thoroughly out of breath with the pain winging its way around his system—a system that was already decimated thanks to the blood sacrifice of days before—he had to curl an arm about Annette’s shoulder for support.

  “I know it probably kills you to do this, but hey, at least I know I’m necessary,” she half-teased, staring up at him with sparkling eyes drenched in her amusement. An amusement that came at the price of his ego and pride.

  “Necessary is too milk and water a word to describe what you are,” he growled, tilting his head down to rub his nose against her temple. He grunted when even that hurt. “Christ, I’m in no fit state of mind to be fencing words with you.”

  She laughed. “No offense, love, but you’ll probably never be in that fit a state of mind.” A wink winged its way to him. “I was head of the debate team at college.”

  “Oh Christ, you get off on arguing.”

  “Not arguing, but a healthy debate never did anyone any harm.”

  He shook his head, a look of disgust marring his lips. “Now I know why you’re my mate.”

  Annette cocked a brow. “Oh?”

  “Yeah, because the Goddesses know what clubhouse meetings are like. You can come in on a white charger and save my sorry ass.” As more laughter pealed from her, he grumbled his discontent. “You think I’m kidding? Things were bad when Jackson was Prez, now he’s gone, I’m left with the aftermath.”

  That sobered her laughter, and now it had gone, he regretted dispelling it. “I’ll do what I can to help,” she told him, and he curled his arm tighter about her shoulders, tugging her closer to him in thanks.

  “I’m not certain there’s all that much you can do, truth be told, Annette. Non-council members aren’t allowed in the meetings. Plus, you don’t know the deals we’ve made, and I doubt you’d approve of them.”

  She pursed her lips. “I accepted you as a mate, Mars.”

  That had him blinking at her. “What do you mean?”

  “What do you think I mean?” she taunted. “I accepted you, knowing full well what you did around here. Call me crazy, but I wasn’t looking to reform you when I accepted you were my mate.”

  He blinked. “You don’t mind we deal with some…”

  “Illegal contraband?” She quirked her brow at him again. “I’m no stickler. Just, whatever the hell you do, don’t wind up in jail.”

  That was probably one promise he couldn’t make. He’d served time about four decades ago for eighteen months; he’d been released early for good behavior, plus the charges against him had suddenly disappeared when the evidence of his drug-running had upped and disappeared. The late seventies had been a great time for their club. Corrupt police were easy to steer, and though they were still around, technology made it far harder to manipulate the laws to their own will.

  It was, however, unlikely that he’d be the one going down. Presidents rarely were in danger of being caught by the cops. Jackson had broken the longstanding tradition of going on the pick ups and drop offs, but most of the gang had figured that was because he had trust issues. Mars didn’t doubt Jackson had been paranoid, mostly because he’d been sniffing a little too much of the product they were peddling, but also, he figured Jackson had figured out a way to make a little money on the side. That he was screwing his own brothers didn’t matter…

  Shit, he was glad the motherfucker was dead.

  It was far easier to deal with the repercussions the man left behind than the constant wave of disasters that traipsed in his wake like a bad smell.

  “I lost you for a second,” she murmured, clicking her fingers a few feet from his face. He stirred and she smiled at him. “I’ll get lost if you stay lost… I have no idea where the bath is,” she teased.

  He returned her smile and directed her to the only bathroom in the club with the tub. When they made it into the quarters, he locked the door and staggered over to the toilet seat. Sitting down heavily had the damn thing groaning beneath his weight, and though she cast a concerned glance his way, she left him alone as she went about turning the water on and filling the bath.

  “There are Epsom salts in the vanity,” he directed.

  “I find it hard to believe you tough bikers have Epsom salt baths.”

  “You’d be surprised,” he grumbled. “We get aches and pains too. More than humans, I’d reckon.”

  She didn’t comment but loaded the water with the salts, watching as it turned murky. “You could probably get in now.”

  Annette was right, but it involved getting up again. Shit, how the hell was he going to get out of the damn bath if getting off the fucking toilet was hard work?

  He warned her, “We might have to call one of the guys in to help me out of the tub.”

  She shrugged. “I’m sure we’ll manage but that’s always an option.”

  Somehow, he knew she said that to salve his pride; he’d have preferred not to call on one of the men for aid. Friends or not, he really didn’t want the memory of his first day on the job as Prez being him stuck in a fucking bathtub like a helpless baby.

  She stood in front of him, held out her hands again, and he clasped them in his then allowed her to lever him up. “You’re strong,” he complimented. “It didn’t register before.”

  “I work out.”

  “You do more than that,” he chided, watching her grin at him told him he was right.

  “It’s a stress reliever. I work out, a lot.”

  “How much is a lot?”

  “Depends.” She shrugged.

  “On what?”

  “The day.”

  “Christ, it’s like pulling blood from a stone.” He rolled his eyes, then groaned as he lifted one leg and stepped into the water. It was toe-curlingly hot but it felt so fucking good. He quickly raised his other leg and climbed fully into the tub, then sank down with a pain-loaded groan. When the wounds on his belly, as well as the various other cuts and scrapes he’d garnered along the way during the challenge, made themselves known as water seeped into them, he felt a little light-headed.

  He sank back against the rest, took a few shaky breaths, knowing that only his strength of will was keeping him awake, was stopping him from passing out.

  “I didn’t realize obstinacy was a way of preventing fainting.”

  “Men don’t faint,” he gritted out, ignoring her sarcasm by fielding more her way.