KIKO (MC Bear Mates Book 3)

by Becca Fanning

  But she wasn’t scared of him. Some of the bikers here did scare her a little. They were so damn big! In her heart though, she’d known they’d never hurt her. She knew that if they did, the others would hurt them in retaliation. Badly.

  But even though Kiko was one of the biggest, one of the brawniest, she wasn’t scared of him and never had been.

  Her heart had recognized what her head hadn’t. For some reason, that warmed her through, took away some of her astonishment.

  “I know you would never hurt me, Kiko,” she whispered, her English careful and slow, because since she’d come here she hadn’t spoken a word of it.

  At her words, he blinked. Then he shook his head. His tawny gold locks fluttered about his shoulders as he tried to process the fact she could speak English. Despite the gravity of the situation, she had to withhold a smile. The way he was shaking his head reminded her of the dog she’d had when she was a small girl. Tatiana had been a Labrador/Sheepdog cross, and whenever she’d gotten wet, she’d wriggled and writhed until the excess water had flown off her, usually onto Mischa, a fact that had often angered her mama.

  Then, he brought her back from her memories with a bang when he bit off, “Why?”

  She swallowed down her fear. It was the first time he’d used anything other than that gentle tone with her, and even though she deserved it—it had been wrong of her to hide her language skills when they could have been of some use to the other women who had been crated up with her—she didn’t have to like it.

  “I was frightened,” she told him, straightening her shoulders and spine, intent on letting him see that she wasn’t scared of him.

  Deep down, she knew she didn’t have to do that, but it was as intrinsic as trying to cover her face with her hair like her mother had taught her to do since her breasts had grown when she was thirteen, not that that had worked as a tactic.

  “Frightened of me?” he asked, his voice hoarse now, his anger gone. She could tell he was horrified by the prospect of her being scared of him, and that had her relaxing.

  She stopped trying to make herself look taller and told him, “No. Not of you. But I didn’t want to stand out from the crowd. If you’d known I spoke English, it would have drawn attention to me, attention I didn’t want.”

  “We would never have hurt you.”

  She hated that he sounded so wounded, like her deviousness had personally hurt him. Mischa let out a sigh. “I didn’t know that. Especially not at the start.”

  “No, but surely you saw that we would never hurt you once you came to know us?”

  “Fear is a strange thing,” she told him softly. “I have been safe before, and yet men will always be men. Here, there is nothing but men. All over the place. And not just regular-sized ones, either. You’re all huge. Now I know why, but before, I didn’t. I just knew you were all massive, and if you wanted to overpower me, or any of us, you could.”

  “Someone hurt you.” His words were a statement rather than a question, and she answered by nodding at him. It was too painful to speak of. She couldn’t share memories of the past, not when they were so difficult to contemplate. But it was why the prospect of a man like Kiko, one who was bound to her with the magic that was intrinsic to his culture, one who would forever protect her and keep her safe, was such a wonderful prospect.

  She didn’t care that it might lead to her becoming a legal citizen in the States. She didn’t care that it meant she’d have a rightful place in the clubhouse and would take her place in the gang’s hierarchy of women.

  None of that mattered. Nothing but her safety mattered.

  She wanted to sag with relief. It sang through her veins, made her limbs feel lax.

  “I’d hunt them down if I could, Mischa,” he told her, baring his teeth in a way that told her his bear was fully enamored with the idea of hunting down anyone who had hurt her and would take great relish in causing them equal pain.

  She should have been frightened by his show of aggression, but as it was a show of his strength, his feeling, and his intent to keep her safe, instead, she felt like floating.

  “Thank you,” she told him primly, folding her arms over her stomach because she wasn’t sure what else to do with her hands. They wanted to creep forward, to touch the bare expanses of flesh that were on display. His body called to hers with a song that was unique to them, but her body and mind were two different entities. What one wanted with utter certainty, the other was still trying to process. “But that isn’t necessary. They are a long way away from me now. Those men can no longer hurt me.”

  The men who had attacked her still lived in the village she’d left behind. Sometimes, she saw them. A few would smirk at her, and others would duck their heads in shame or avoidance of what they’d done to her. Their presence in her world was one of the reasons she’d found it so easy to leave behind all she’d known.

  With her grandfather gone, there had been no ties to her home anymore—a home where she wasn’t safe. A home where she’d feared the men who smirked at her, totally unashamed of what they’d done all those years ago, would break into her house at night and do it again once she was alone.

  She thought he sensed her memories had taken her down a lane she never wished to travel, because he sucked in a deep breath, his nostrils pinching with the force of it. “That doesn’t appease my Bear,” he told her, his voice a growl, but then he asked, “What’s changed, Mischa? Why are you willing to speak English to me now?”

  She hesitated about what to tell him. Though she sensed his protective streak would like the fact she wanted him to keep her safe, no man wanted to be thought of as a bodyguard and nothing else.

  Though she knew he would defend her with his life, the fact she was his mate came with other responsibilities—ones that would be very difficult for her to fulfill.

  She did not see him as a man or as a lover. Not at the moment, anyway. She saw his animal. A beautiful bear who could kill with his paws and whose soul was aligned with hers in a way that would urge him to forever protect her.

  When she was little, the idea of being mated to such a creature would have made her foolish heart flutter with wonder. She ached for the innocence of that girl, because now she felt none of that. At least, she didn’t yet. Maybe she wouldn’t until the notion that she was mated settled fully in her mind.

  “You called me mate. Outside, in the yard.” She bit her lip, hoping to hell her English hadn’t been wonky at that moment. She knew mate also meant friend, and suddenly fear prickled along her nerve endings. She didn’t want to be a friend.

  He would defend a friend, but maybe not with his life.

  Before terror could make her knees knock, his very naked self stepped forward, and he took hold of her hands. Her fingers were tiny in comparison to his big paws; they swallowed hers whole.

  Mischa liked the sight of it, enjoyed the contrast of their sizes.

  “You know what a mate means? Your English is astonishing, but I know some terms might not translate well.”

  She shook her head. “Mate is partner, yes?”

  He let out a deep sigh. “Yes. But not just any partner.” He took their joined hands and tapped them to the center of his chest. “A heart partner. A soul partner.”

  She gulped, spotting the earnestness in his gaze as well as the hope.

  It felt silly to think it, but she realized she was the culmination of all his hopes and desires. Baba had told her that Shifters lived for the day they found their mates, and she could believe that from the way he was looking at her.

  It was like she was a princess from a fairy tale.

  Despite herself, Mischa felt her cheeks turn pink at the strength of the emotions that were beaming her way in those gorgeous seafoam eyes of his.

  “You understand?” he asked, breaking into her reverie.

  She nodded. “Yes. I understand. Not just a boyfriend or even a husband. Our souls are connected.”

  He nodded, a relieved gust of air sighing from his li
ps at her comprehension.

  “God, your English is good,” he praised. “I’ve been terrified about this conversation. Wondering how the hell I was going to be able to tell you any of this.” He shook his head, less severely this time. His tousled locks were only ruffled; they didn’t whip from side to side. “I’m too relieved to be mad that you were playing us for fools all this time!”

  She frowned at his wording and pulled her hands away from his.

  “My intention wasn’t to treat you like fools. I was protecting myself,” she told him stiffly, and in her annoyance, heard the thickness of her accent.

  Mischa knew her grandfather would wince at the sound. He’d always taught her to enunciate words carefully, and she’d been an apt student.

  To hear the sudden appearance of her accent made her realize how mad he’d made her, and Mischa hadn’t felt anger for a very long time. Anger was an emotion she couldn’t afford. If she let it take hold, only God knew what that would do to her.

  But now, it burned through her like a fire, razing a lot of her emotions in its path. It didn’t destroy those feelings and remembered hurts. Instead, it seemed to gather them up like an emotional storm, building and intensifying until she felt she could contain it no longer.

  She’d spent years hiding behind a mask of composure, years of hiding because her face and form were put together in such a way that men turned into animals around her. Years of being scared, of never feeling safe just because she looked a certain way, and he thought she’d hidden among the crowd to play games?

  To be duplicitous for the sake of being devious?

  When he tried to reach for her hands again, she shook her head and took a step back.

  “Until you have lived in my shoes, you cannot understand the choices I have made. Do not presume to judge me,” she told him, her words snapping at him in a way she didn’t realize she was capable of. “I did what I did to survive, and I would do it again. In a heartbeat!”

  He studied her a second then murmured, “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you raise your voice. “

  She glared at him and stomped her foot, uncaring of how childish the gesture was. “Do not listen to the volume. Listen to the words I say!”

  “I am listening, and you’re right. I didn’t mean to sound judgmental, Mischa, but you have to understand. I’ve been scared too.”

  That had her rearing back in stunned surprise. “You? You were scared? Of me?”

  “Of course I was. How could I not be? I’ve been looking for you since I came of age. I’ve spent so many decades waiting for you, Mischa. Then I find you but think I can’t talk to you? Can you understand how hard that was for me? Not only could I not make you understand what you are to me, but you were terrified, and rightly so. You’d been treated abominably, still dealing with the aftermath of what had happened to you...” He clenched his eyes closed. “It’s been hell. And if I’m mad now that you can speak English, it’s only because I don’t like being scared. And I wouldn’t have needed to be if I’d known I could at least have made you aware of my feelings for you.”

  For a second, she was stunned speechless.

  She wasn’t a fool. Technically, she knew everyone felt fear, be they old or young, little or large. And yet, it seemed incredible that this man, this behemoth had felt fear because of her. Shaking her head at the notion, she held out her hands and let him take them again.

  The way he gathered protective hold of her fingers was as if he were touching spun glass. She liked it, and even though what she liked most was the safety he represented, there were other things that pleased her enormously. He was fully aware of the difference in their sizes, and he treated her with care. He had a beautiful face, one a woman could look at for hours and see different nuances that would teach her an incredible amount about him. And his body? She had to bite her lip to remind herself it was rude to stare. But he was so naked, so bare, and so uncaring of that nudity.

  She supposed being naked was a person’s natural state, but the world wasn’t like that anymore. People were supposed to be more at ease in clothes than in their skin, and yet Kiko wasn’t like that. He could have been wearing a covering that hid every bit of him from her for all the distress he was showing at being in front of her in what she would have assumed was a vulnerable state, and yet she knew it wasn’t for him.

  Mischa licked her lips and said, “I will be your mate, Kiko. But I am not ready for all that entails.”

  At her first sentence, his eyes had blazed with glory. At her second, his shoulders hunched. But the hold on her fingers didn’t change. There was no added pressure to the digits in an attempt to force her to change her will. Instead, he just sighed.

  “I didn’t start the day believing you’d know you were my mate by the end of it, so I should be grateful for small mercies.” He widened his eyes and blew out his cheeks. “It’s enough of a gift that there’s no language barrier between us.”

  “You accept my choice so easily?” she asked, astonished that he wasn’t going to argue.

  “Of course. I don’t have to like it to understand it, Mischa.” He gritted his teeth. “I can wait. You might not believe this, Mischa, but know I would never lie to you... I know what it feels like to be treated like a piece of meat. I don’t want to talk about why, but understand that I have been subjugated as you were yourself, and I would never dream of doing that to my worst enemy, never mind the woman who owns the other half of my soul.”

  Mischa blinked at him. She understood his meaning but not all the words. Later, she would have to look up the meaning of subjugated, because its definition couldn’t be what it seemed to mean, could it?

  When he saw her look of disbelief, he shook his head. “It’s true. I will tell you someday, as I hope you will be able to share the secrets that keep you awake at night with me. It will be proof of the trust we have given one another.”

  She liked the sound of that. Mischa didn’t know if she’d ever be able to tell him about what had happened to her in her small hometown, or once she’d stupidly put herself in the mafia’s hands, but she found herself curious about what had happened to him, and she knew it was only fair for him to share if she did too.

  But that would take time, and he was giving her the freedom to choose when she was ready.

  This man was highly unusual.

  The thought made her smile, and when he saw it, he seemed to light up in the face of her pleasure.

  The sight of it stunned her. Could her happiness mean so much to him?

  Astonished and touched, she squeezed his fingers and said, “It might be difficult for you, so I will not mind if you say no, but I can stay with you in here, yes? There is no privacy in the rooms with the other women. You would mind if I share a room with you?” She cleared her throat and ducked her gaze. “The room but not the bed.” She glanced at the sofa and nodded at it. “I can sleep well there.”

  “Nonsense. I’ll take the sofa. You’re welcome to the bed. It would be an honor to share these quarters with you.”

  His formal words pleased her. She was being courted, she realized, and she liked it.

  But when she looked at him and then looked at the sofa, Mischa shook her head. “I will remain in the women’s quarters if you do not let me take the sofa. You are far too tall, and I would not be able to sleep knowing you were so uncomfortable.”

  “I’ve slept in worse places,” he immediately argued, but then something about her stance must have made him realize she meant business. She didn’t know what he’d seen, but he took one look at her face and hunched his shoulders again, agreeing, “Okay, if that’s what you want.”

  She beamed at him, pleased that he’d capitulated. “Good. I shall get my things and move in tonight, yes?”