Bear King's Curves: A BBW Werebear Shifter Romance

by A. T. Mitchell

  “You abandoned me.”

  I jerked the wheel, almost tearing the car over to the dark curb. My foot tapped the accelerator, quickening our journey into the dark night.

  No. No matter how heated this gets, I have to keep going. Gotta put more miles between us and them.

  “Look,” I said, pausing to collect my words. “I don't know what the hell happened between you and bear shifters in the past. If I knew there was a single chance Branson and his goons would've hurt you before I could get to you, I would've torn him down then and there. I would've given everything – everything! – to keep you safe. And I still will. Trust me.”

  “Trust? You broke my trust the first night we spent together! The first time we kissed, I got tied up...” She swallowed hard, as if her mouth were filled with something bitter.

  “And I saved your life over this damned ball. Twice.”

  I stared at her, casting one glance back at the open road. The truth had given her serious pause.

  “I just...this whole fucking thing is crazy! I never, ever thought I'd end up with a bear – on the run no less...” Lyla shook her head.

  I had to force myself to focus on driving again, away from the long hair flowing around her supple breasts. Gods, to throw myself on her again, wrapping each hand around her softness.

  “Why? Tell me what happened. We're not monsters, Lyla.”

  Not all of us, I thought, a vision of the one eyed Elder smiling sardonically in my mind.

  “My father,” she began, looking out the side window. “He was killed by a bear.”

  Surprise. My eyebrows stretched up toward my forehead. Well, that explained a hell of a lot.

  “Around Klamath? Our Clan?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. He was a miner. Went north for some little startup and ended up around Klamath Falls in the mid-eighties. Everything went well the next ten years, until he got in a fight. Happened at a poker game, my mother said, a fight with another man. Or what he took for another man.”

  My heart began to pound. Something about this story was awfully familiar. I remembered a time in my teen years when Branson and a couple other guys were big on gambling with humans.

  “He shifted,” Lyla continued. “His teeth were in my Dad's neck before anybody could tear the bear off. Then these fucking government goons had the nerve to cover up the whole thing. Told my mother to keep it under her hat, or else it would cause a lot of bad blood between the local people and the reservation – as if you're some kind of harmless Indian tribe!”

  I glanced down. Her fists were clenched, pressed deep into her plush hips, shaking slightly as fury rolled through her.

  Dead fathers. One more thing in common, I thought.

  “I've never told anybody that before. Never expected the first person outside our family to know it would be one of your kind...”

  “It's okay, Lyla.” Slowly, I reached for her hand, wondering if she'd shrink away.

  She didn't. Her shallow, soft sobs filled the car as I held her hand. Both of us stared at the dark road flanked by rocky forest, onward to Idaho.

  “My clan's been on a warpath for decades. It was only forty or fifty years when they finally got a treaty locked up with the government. Money was never been easy to come by. The Elders always approved a bunch of stupid schemes with the human world, but Branson's were always the worst...”

  “Can I ask you something, Nick?” She locked eyes on me, big and round and sad.

  I nodded. Wouldn't dream of saying no to that look.

  “Do you know who killed him?”

  I shook my head. I didn't know. And if I did, would I have turned him over, betraying another one of my people for a crime that happened so long ago?

  No easy answers to that.

  “No. I was just becoming a man at the time. I remember hearing something about a fight in a bar, some trouble with the government...the Elders are the only source of information we've got. They share a few scraps with those in their inner circle. Hardly anything with bears even lower down the line. Very hierarchical. Everything we do is based on power and ritual.”

  “I know all about that. You were training to be an Alpha, weren't you?”

  The words stung. After this, speaking in the past tense was more than appropriate.

  “Yeah. Branson trusted me until he found your car on our property. That's why he sent me to do the job, and not some asshole like Victor. I've always been the strongest among the younger bears. Last Alpha we had died up north five years ago...a little known shoot out.”

  “Shoot out?” It was her turn to look surprised.

  “Short lived gun running operation for this human group based out of Redding. Another one of Branson's stupid ideas. That's how he lost his eye.”

  “Shame,” she sneered. I practically shared the bitter taste of Lyla's sarcasm.

  I drove on several more minutes in silence. Out here in the boonies, dead of night, it was like we were the only man and woman on earth.

  Something calming about that. Or maybe we were both satisfied that we'd laid our cards out on the table without laying claws into each other.

  “Well, what now?” She said, lightening her grip on my hand and stroking the muscular sides. “Your buddies will come looking for us. If they aren't already. Can't keep driving forever.”

  She glanced in the side mirror. I'd checked carefully for any familiar vehicles behind us on the road every time we filled up. By now, someone had probably discovered Victor's corpse and our hasty departure, but I was sure we'd gotten at least a hundred mile head start.

  “We'll find some place to settle. Get our shit together while we plan our next move. It'll take them forever to find us in the next state over.”

  “I thought bears were supposed to be awesome at tracking their prey?”

  “Then you forget we're half human too,” I said, managing a small smile. “Let's get ourselves across the border and find some place to rest. They'll have to fan out, slow and confused. The few clans we've had contact with are really spread across the country, and the Klamath bears have never been on the best terms with our kinsmen.”

  “Not surprising with who you've got in charge.”

  We drove on. The darkness wasn't so claustrophobic now. More like a dark soft sea gliding us to safety.

  I was finishing my steak and eggs, staring up at a huge stuffed elk's head on the wall. The lodge we'd found across the Idaho border was good enough. For now.

  “How do the rates look?” I asked.

  Lyla studied the booklet the old Indian owner at the front desk had given us. It was a breakdown of rates by the day, week, and month. She had her phone out, crunching numbers on its calculator.

  “If we go with the weekly, we can hide out here for quite awhile. More with the monthly discount, but I thought you might want to move on at some point.”

  “At some point,” I repeated.

  I looked at her plate. She'd only eaten half her spiced oatmeal and toast with jam. The tea next to her was untouched.

  “You should really eat more.” She looked up, a suspicious twinkle in her eyes. “I'm serious. It's been a long journey and I know you haven't had much for a few days.”

  She flashed a slow smile, and then went for her tea, stirring in extra sugar. Her pale cheeks turned slightly red. Plush, rosy, and beautiful like ripe apples.

  “What's up?”

  “It's nice to be around a man who's concerned about what I eat for real reasons. Not because he wants to change my figure.”

  “Hell no,” I growled the words so there would be no doubt. “You're fine, Lyla. And I do mean fine, just the way you are.”

  Our eyes met. For the first time since my cabin, we allowed our lust to frolic, insistent and on the rise.

  After all this, I couldn't imagine anything better than getting her alone in one of these big lodge rooms. I gulped down the rest of my coffee and squeezed her hand.

  “Hold on. I'll be right back. Let me go tell this guy we've decid
ed what we're gonna do.”

  Mostly rest. Stay safe. And sort this shit out – whatever that means.

  I looked over my shoulder. Next to Lyla on the table sat the artifact, carefully wrapped in a small plastic bag we'd gotten at a gas station.

  I didn't have a clue where to start. I'd exiled myself from the Klamath Clan forever.

  Two choices: stay with this beautiful woman I barely knew and carve out a new life. Forget the sweet volcanic hill country and forests of Northern California.

  Or else learn as much as I could about this artifact and why it was so damned valuable.

  “Excuse me, sir?”

  The old Indian man came forward, his long gray haired tied back in a ponytail. He took the form out of my hand.

  “We'd like to take the weekly rate. Off season.”

  He nodded slowly and tapped a few keys on an ancient looking computer. An equally archaic printer squealed, spitting out our receipt.

  Reaching for my wallet, I fished out the cash I expected I'd need. Then he passed me the paper and I did a double take. The numbers next to the dollar signs were a lot lower than expected.

  “What's this? I wasn't expecting such a cheap rate, even for late autumn.”

  “Traveler's special,” he said. His eyes glowed a little brighter, but stopped just short of winking.

  I paid the cash, folded the receipt, and stuffed it into my pocket. I waited before re-joining Lyla in the empty dining room.

  I had to be damned sure this wasn't some kind of trap. Not that any connection with my clan seemed possible in this remote place.

  That Indian can't possibly know anyone back home...

  A chill worked its way up my spine. I had to be sure.

  The walls where the dining hall and rooms forked had tons of old pictures stacked along the walls. I looked them over carefully. Didn't find any clues about this place there, nothing alarming or obvious.

  The old man was in a few images. I stopped at the last row, a couple grainy black and white pictures dated in the early 1950s.

  Behind a row of smiling men dressed like lumberjacks was the front desk. The very same, sans the computer. The old man was there too.

  He hadn't aged a day in fifty years.

  While I couldn't rule out the possibility he'd taken over for a father, a grandfather, or someone else, the photos didn't lie. The old manager in black and white was identical to the man I'd just spoken to.

  I looked over my shoulder, but no one was there. Growling, I fingered the edge of the photo's frame.

  Gods. Even bears didn't age that slowly.

  I wondered who – or what – I was dealing with here.

  “What is it, Nick? You've been awfully quiet since you got back to the table.”

  I sat in our room by the window, staring out at an early morning frost. We were further north, where mountains and forests snowed over quicker and deeper than the mild Klamath winter I was used to.

  “That old man at the counter, the guy who manages this place...”

  Lyla relaxed on the bed near me, tilting her head in confusion.

  “Something odd about him. He gave me a discount without even asking. That's something no lodge in these parts should do, especially when it looks like we're the only paying lodgers right now.”

  She sat up, a look of alarm souring her beautiful face. I stood up, pushed onto the bed next to her, slipping a comforting arm around her soft shoulders.

  “It's okay. I don't think we're in danger. I searched the hallway high and low for any signs. Never heard of the Klamath Clan having associates this far north either. Not in Idaho.” I spoke slowly, deliberately probing my mind to make sure I hadn't overlooked anything.

  Think, damn it. Any missteps here could have a grave price.

  No, nothing. Whatever the old Indian's angle was, it couldn't be a beef with me. Or Lyla, for that matter.

  “Then...what is it? Why do you think he'd do something?”

  “The photos on the wall. Some of them go back fifty or sixty years. I saw him in the background, looking just like he does now.” Lyla's face tightened in surprise. “No, I don't think he's a shifter. This is...something else.”

  “You need to talk to him. Find out.”

  “Yeah. I'm just not sure what the hell I'll actually find.”

  “So much for getting away from it all...”

  She was right. I leaned in and kissed her, grateful for the vote of confidence buried in sarcasm. Gods, her plush skin was amazing beneath my fingers, soft and warm and still amazingly sweet.

  It didn't matter that we'd been on the run for almost a full day without even a shower. No dirt, no wear and tear, could ever tarnish her beautiful body.

  I squeezed her tight. Lyla kissed me back, wet and sultry. I sensed her heat, her scent, releasing pheromones of desire that stopped just short of raging lust.

  We were exhausted. My erection wanted her now, but my brain demanded sleep.

  Later, I promised. We'll rest up and take her that much harder. And she'll love every brutal second of it.

  Lyla didn't protest as I pulled her close to me. We laid together, my arms wrapped around her, hugging her close to my chest.

  I almost lost you. Never again, I vowed.

  I swear it.

  Soon, her curves rippled gently beneath my arms, rising and falling in time to her breaths. Sleep had found her.

  My blood pushed through my veins, warm currents reminding me how badly I needed rest too. The last twenty-four hours had easily been the most brutal and hectic of my life.

  A shame it takes brutality to crystallize everything. For nearly forty years, I'd always been someone's protege, a hired gun of claws and fur directed by Branson or Beamer or some older bear.

  Back home, they're calling me a traitor, I thought. But at least I can call myself a man.

  A man with a purpose much greater than anything Klamath ever offered.

  I nuzzled into Lyla's neck, careful not to wake her with my scratchy stubble. She looked, smelled, and felt like perfection.

  The dreams were dark.

  The bear ran rampant, communing with the spirit world all shifters sensed in their sleep. I was an animal again, prowling through the wild, high grasses and untamed forests that existed long before humans settled the Wild West in huge numbers, back when real grizzly bears lived among our kind.

  And my bear grew tired of the endless hunting and fighting. Eventually, he laid down in a giant hollow, wanting to rest, jealously guarding the curvy young human female stroking his fur.

  IV: The Destiny Stone (Lyla)

  We slept together long and deep, all through the evening and night. Waking up the next morning was like entering another world.

  I rolled, feeling the beautiful man next to me. His grip lessened in his sleep, but he never took his arms off me, those strong protective hands circled around my waist.

  I woke first, rolled gently, and studied his face.

  Every handsome detail tore at me. This face had threatened, betrayed, loved, and protected.

  All in the briefest handful of hours too, as if time and emotion had been condensed by an angry god and funneled into him, Nick Tunder, a creature who was more than just a man.

  His eyes opened. Those ice colored eyes drew me in, a breathtaking glacial landscape concealed in two neat gems.

  “Ready for a shower?”

  I nodded. The nascent heat between my legs became a full sauna, and doubled again when he took me by the hand and pulled me up.

  I followed him into the small, tidy bathroom attached to our comfortable living space. Then the animal inside him awoke too, the beast who pushed me against the wall and began tearing at my clothes.

  Nick kissed me hard, deep. I knew he shared my same raw need. My stomach growled once, but I ignored it, too hungry for something else.

  “Gods, you're a real woman,” he said, pushing up my shirt. “Not a scrawny little female. Your hips, your tits, your curves...give me a day. I'll run
my tongue along every inch of you.”

  The low edge in his voice made me quiver. That was a promise.

  Before I knew it, my clothes were off, and I was shuddering faster against the wall as he kissed his way up one leg. Nick's fingers plunged into my swollen sex, deep into the wet cream gushing to his thrusting fingers.

  He hammered me harder, incrementally increasing the pressure. I steadied myself against the wall, hoping my knees wouldn't give out. Wave after wave of brute, hot, animalistic pleasure – his pleasure – tore through me.

  Orgasm hit like a whirlwind. My brain tipped upside down. Crashing, drowning, rending apart in the white hot heat electrifying my whole body.

  Nick growled, pushing his thumb against my clit. I came harder, curling my fingers and toes, spreading my body along the wall in rapture.

  Nothing was held back anymore. He made me feel beautiful, as if he didn't see a single imperfection. And I quickly learned how fast, how hard that made me come.

  Apparently, good orgasms shared a direct relationship with freedom, the liberty to be who I was really was. Or at least to be worshiped as a beautiful woman first, and not a plus size throwaway men took in desperation.

  “Come on,” Nick murmured, tugging at my hand as my senses recovered. “Undress me.”

  “You got it! Can't imagine a better way to wake up than this...”

  He spread his arms and legs. I worked fast, tugging off his shirt, and then the old jeans hugging his powerful hips.

  His dark boxers were last. I hesitated for a second, knowing that wicked cock would drive me wild the instant it appeared.

  But the need to have his scent, his taste, was officially too much. God! I really did need him after all we'd been through...

  No more waiting. His waistband snapped and I jerked it to his knees.

  Now he was naked, glorious, every angle of him pointed and ready. He lifted me up. I brushed against his naked skin, weathering his embrace, every fiber of my being roaring to have him inside me.

  Shit. We don't even have any condoms. I'll have to settle for something else, and hope that's sufficient to tame the beast inside him.