Phillipe

by Becca Fanning

  Pip didn’t seem to sense the undercurrents rippling between them, but she settled down the drinks and said, “I guess this is club business, so I’ll leave you in peace. Wave me over if you need me.”

  The woman’s cheer added some warmth to the chills darting up and down Annette’s body, but not enough to stop the shivering. A large paw of a hand swept across the table. The thick, spatulate fingers connected with Annette’s and the heat, the instantaneous shock of warmth, had a moan escaping her.

  She shuddered once more as it pulsed through her veins, sending glorious swathes of fire through her chilled soul. A cry escaped her when the burning seemed to find a focus on her wrists. Pain swamped her now, and where the heat had once been delicious, now it was as agonizing as that sudden dash of cold had been when her eyes had connected with Mars’s. She tried to pull her hand from his, but his grip was as fierce as Mundo’s had accidentally been. Because his grasp restricted movement, she turned her other hand, palm up, and nearly wept at the sight before her.

  Like something from a horror movie, her blood had began to pool in the veins at her wrist, almost like a super-tight tourniquet was blocking the flow. But there was no puddle, no rise like there would have been with a blood blister. The flesh of her wrist was flat, but blood still gathered, and then as suddenly as it had come together, it dispersed. Slinking over the rise and fall of her wrist, moving sinuously, weaving a pattern her blood seemed to know. Like a super thin row of chain mail, it swirled around her radius, and with each intricate knot of the chain came pain. When the ring was complete, she shuddered as the pain disappeared, but the ‘bracelet’ didn’t.

  She stared down at it, ‘it’ which could only be described as a blood tattoo, and felt her vision start to fade. Her gaze blur as horror and shock began to merge together.

  Mars’s other hand snapped out, reaching for her, and only that stopped her from passing out.

  The man who made her feel faint was also her version of smelling salts.

  How fucked up was that?

  “What’s going on?” she cried, her voice a whispery breath. She didn’t dare look at Mars, so looked to Mundo—a relative life raft in this chaos—but he flinched when that low growl sounded once more. Her eyes darted to Mars and the growl immediately stopped. Large thumbs swept over her hands and thumbed the veins at her wrist. The small touch soothed the shadowy pain that still hovered there at her pulse point.

  “I’ll deal with this Mundo,” Mars finally said, his voice like gravel. It set her nerves alight even as his eyes never left Annette’s and his thumbs maintained that soft massage. “I’ll meet you back at the clubhouse.”

  “A-Are yo…” Mundo let his glance flicker between them before he got to his feet without another word and without completing his question.

  “What’s happening?” she whispered again, her lips quivering, stuttering the words as the power of the moment hit her.

  Once again, he didn’t answer her question. “My name is Mars. You’re Annette.”

  Dazed at the way he said her name, like he was savoring it, making love to each syllable, she gave a shaky nod, then confirmed, “Yes, I’m Annette.”

  “Say my name, Annette.” His voice was low with the hint of a command, but it didn’t trigger her natural response to demands—she didn’t rebel as she would have done with any other living creature on God’s green Earth—instead, and for the first time in her life, she complied.

  “Mars.” She wanted to wince at the breathiness behind his name but couldn’t because she didn’t have it in her.

  His eyes flickered to a shut at the longing in her tone, before the lids lifted again. This time, his eyes weren’t the exotic cerulean of the Caribbean ocean, they were a stormy gray. “We need to get out of here.”

  She gulped at the urgency in his voice, the desperation that had appeared. But she couldn’t let him dictate to her now. She tugged at his grip on her hands and asked, “What’s going on?”

  He must have sensed the touch of steel to her question this time because he murmured a word, a single word that about stopped her heart and made her brain turn to mush, “Mate.”

  And like that, nothing made sense while everything, every little thing, suddenly felt right.

  SNEAK PEAK MARS Chapter 2

  Mate.

  The word reverberated around Mars Donner’s head like an echo on endless repeat.

  He’d found her.

  His one.

  It seemed incredible. Impossible, even. But it wasn’t.

  She was here. Seated before him. The blood tattoo had seared her wrists, proclaiming her as his. Identifying her to him—as if he wouldn’t have managed by just a single glance her way.

  He’d have forty-eight hours to cement the binding before the tattoo dispersed, forever disappearing. Two days. Two single days to claim her as his and make sure she was so loaded with his scent, no bastard brother of his would go anywhere near her.

  The restlessness that had been irritating him of late had disappeared the instance their eyes had connected. The doubts, the discomfort, the concerns… all vanished as if they’d never existed. He knew they’d return, thoughts of how his MC was being mismanaged wouldn’t disappear for long, but Annette’s presence reminded him of what really mattered here. Her. Him. Together. As one.

  The thought had a shudder slicing through him, cutting him to the quick as a charge of power seemed to zing at his major pulse points; wrist, throat, groin. He wanted to moan, to groan out his delight at the sensation, but they were in a public place with humans at the counter… Mars didn’t want an audience for what was about to happen.

  “What do you mean I’m your mate?” she whispered, her tone still dazed but there was no fear there, and he knew, even though such talk must have seemed crazy to her, she understood. She felt the same. Truth was, she couldn’t not feel the same. He was hers as she was his.

  Her pupils were tiny pin pricks, and he knew her body’s chemistry was adjusting, making it so she was as high as a kite on endorphins and hormones. Pretty soon, she’d pass out. In fact, it was a testament to her strength, her indomitable will, that she hadn’t fainted already.

  It fit that his mate would have such an internal source of power. He was born Alpha, even if he was content to currently sit in the Beta position, working his way to the top of the tree as Bears were wont to do within their Clans, and his mate was as Alpha as he.

  “I mean, our souls are one.”

  At that, her eyelids flickered. Once, twice, and then they closed, and had it not been for him reaching forward to awkwardly grab a hold of her and to keep her upright, he knew she’d have slumped in her seat. Adjusting her a little so she wouldn’t hunch forward, to stop gravity from pushing her against the table and undoubtedly bashing her head in the process, he climbed out of the booth and then edged her out of it.

  Pip must have seen his predicament because she scampered over, compassion and concern radiating from every pore. “Mars?” she asked, uncertainty heavy in her words. “Is everything alright?”

  He gulped, shaking his head as he caught her gaze. But he was capable of uttering only a single word; “Mate.”

  His whisper had her blanching. Then quickly peering around to make sure no one was listening. The patrons’ attentions were still firmly fixed on their meals and their cell phones. Thankfully, their interest wasn’t with them. “Are you certain?” She shook her head. “Of course you are. Sorry, stupid question. What can I do to help? Does she need something to bring her ‘round? I could go to the drugstore or the pharmacy… they still make smelling salts, right?”

  Mars blinked at her eagerness to help. Christ, she’d have made Cub, the MC’s old Prez, a brilliant old lady. Not even sadness could hit him now though, and he simply smiled, warmly, appreciatively, at her. “You’re a good friend, Pip.”

  She waved a dismissive hand. “Let me help.”

  Mars reached over and grabbed a firmer hold of Annette. Hauling her up, he made sure she land
ed carefully on his shoulder, then he waited for Pip to rearrange her from the back. “Can I borrow your truck? I can’t take her to the clubhouse on my hog.”

  “Of course. Just wait a second. I’ll grab my keys.” She scurried away, then returned a few minutes later.

  “I’ll get one of the guys to bring your truck back.” He cleared his throat, desperate to rush off, get Annette back to his den, but a thought popped into his head. “You have a preference on which brother comes?”

  She smiled, reached forward to pat his cheek, and said, “I’m glad you’ve found her. You always were a lovely man.” As she folded her arms, she continued, “No preferences on who comes… just go. Claim her. Make her yours.”

  There was a wistfulness to her tone that spoke of her own longing to be a mate. But she hadn’t been Cub’s even though Mars knew Pip had loved his MC’s recently passed President. And if Cub had ever had any intentions where Pip was concerned, they probably were only a measly promotion from club bunny to old lady. Cub might have shown her affection, could even have grown to love her, but it was nothing like the all encompassing link between mates. Still, she’d have done a good job as the Prez’s old lady, and she’d have loved him with all the love a human could give. Mars liked to think Cub would have treated her right, but he certainly wouldn’t have treated her like he would a mate.

  He didn’t know Annette. Had barely spoken to her. And yet, he could feel the connection in every single one of his cells. On a molecular level, a vibration was thrumming through him, sending charges of power through his very marrow. That was the power of a mate bond, and they hadn’t even joined yet. This was the first flush of sensation.

  He wanted to crow at what the second flush, or the third or fourth must feel like.

  “You’re a good friend, Pip,” he told her hoarsely, then scurried away, his mate still hanging on his shoulder as he exited the joint.

  He tried not to jar her but it was hard to move swiftly without jolting her a little. The idea of causing her pain had him doing a weird shuffle with his feet as he approached Pip’s truck. When he unlocked the passenger door and carefully lowered Annette onto it, he finally released a breath then grunted as the heat from within the vehicle hit him. Quickly, he rounded the fender, opened the door, and switched on the engine and the climate control.

  Leaving the doors open, he returned to Annette’s side, not moving until the air started to cool. As he waited, he watched her. Her skin was pale from fainting, but there was a golden hue to her that spoke of her warm-blood. Thick, lustrous lashes curled atop high cheekbones, which led down to a perfect Cupid’s bow and a bottom lip he couldn’t wait to nibble. Golden brown waves curled about her shoulders, artfully caressing her throat and hiding her ears from his gaze apart from the glint of gold of her earrings. She was luscious, every inch of her a handful. She wasn’t bony, but meaty. Something his bear crowed at. He could imagine cuddling up to her in winter, when the need to sleep longer and later through the cold months hit him. She’d keep him warm, in this form or his other.

  Just thinking of her curves, naked, had saliva pooling in his mouth.

  When he realized the climate control was working, he carefully arranged her on the seat so she wouldn’t fall, managing to strap her into the seat even though it was an awkward position for her. Returning to the driver’s seat once more, he closed the door, and set off back down the road to the clubhouse.

  The five minute drive seemed interminable, and the small country lane that led to the warehouse was a mass of bumps and hillocks that had him cursing and looking down at his mate to see if they disturbed her. When she lay there, as peaceful as if she were Sleeping Beauty, he let out a sigh of relief.

  As he approached the clubhouse, the gates were open wide, and chaos dominated the courtyard. As he pulled up to a halt, wondering what the hell was going on and if a rival gang had opened fire on some of their members, he noticed all attention was on him. But more than that, it was on the passenger seat of the truck.

  Mundo had told his brothers Mars had found his mate.

  There was longing, jealousy, well-meant envy, need, and desire written on the faces of the men he knew and loved as brothers. But there was also cheer, happiness, relief, and congratulations. They were giddy for him—even Jackson, the new Prez of The Nomads, was there, watching with intent as Mars braked to a stop and jumped out of the truck. He threw the keys to Kiko, who was on the front line, and hollered, “Fill up the tank, Kiko, and take it back to Pipsqueak. She’s at The Hungry Hog.”

  Kiko nodded disinterestedly and pocketed the keys for later. His attention was on the passenger side of the truck, not the driver. When Mars approached the door, he sucked in a deep breath then opened it. Annette lay as awkwardly as she had before—she hadn’t stirred a muscle. He reached for the seatbelt, unclipped it, then bundled her into his arms.

  A collective gasp rang around the crowd, and if he hadn’t felt as awed as his brothers, he’d have been amused by it. But mates were no laughing matter, and in the four hundred strong MC, forty of whom lived on the compound, the rest living out, he was the only one who’d found her.

  His other half.

  Careful with his charge, he settled her deeper into his hold before he moved away from the truck. All eyes were on Annette. They analyzed and dissected. Hushed whispers rang up, a small salutation—a thankful prayer to the Goddess—whispered through the heavy crowd.

  His brothers parted without his needing to ask. Like Moses and the parting of the Red Sea, they let him through, their reverence touching him. When he neared Jackson, his current leader, a man he’d once trusted but now didn’t, the Prez clapped a gentle hand to Mars’s shoulder, careful not to jar Annette.

  “Congratulations,” he whispered, his eyes skimming over her.

  Mars’s bear started to take umbrage at the attention another male was giving his mate but Jackson seemed to sense it, and the usually insensitive SOB lifted his hands in apology.

  A bear with an unclaimed and newly discovered mate in his arms was not the beast to piss off. Not unless you wanted to lose a limb.

  Hell, when Mundo had steadied her earlier, Mars’s bear had gone apeshit. And his friend had been helping his mate, not studying her and itemizing her like she was the star of a porn shoot.

  Mars just grunted and finally walked into the clubhouse. Everyone was outside, save for the club bunnies. They were hanging around in the bar as was their way, but even they looked up at his entrance. He saw their annoyance, their mean jealousy, but ignored it and carried on to his quarters.

  When they immediately started talking, hushed whispers that took him down the corridor to his rooms, he realized he couldn’t live here with Annette. It would never work. The bunnies would be spiteful, and even the old ladies whose places were more secure than the whores, would be bitterly resentful. In comparison to a mate, their positions weren’t secure at all.

  As he shouldered his door open and finally maneuvered Annette into his home, a shudder of relief whispered through him. His den wasn’t as picture perfect as he’d have liked for his mate, in fact, it was a dump that didn’t deserve her feet to even touch the ground, but it was what he had at the moment.

  Even as he pushed on, taking her over to the bed and carefully laying her out atop the covers, he was recalculating his bank balance. One of the reasons he’d risen so quickly in The Nomads’ ranks was his capabilities with math. It made him a great and highly capable treasurer, even if it did make him unusual MC material.

  He figured he had enough stashed away to buy somewhere small in the country, close enough to the MC not to cause a ruckus among his brothers. All of the high ranks currently lived on site. Cub had preferred it that way, even with the brothers who had old ladies. Nobody ever appreciated change, but from the spectacle he’d just witnessed out there in the courtyard, he figured adapting his world around his mate wasn’t going to cause too much of a rift. Everyone would understand, and if they didn’t, they could go fuck the
mselves.

  Mars got down on his knees beside the bed and took a second to stare at Annette as she slept. He pulled himself away after a few minutes, not wanting her to wake up and find him looking at her. He figured she’d find it creepy, humans did, but for the bear, it was a chance for him to absorb the fact he’d found his one. Watching her as she slept was akin to defending her while she was at her most vulnerable, so ultimately, she’d have to get used to him doing it because his bear wasn’t going to be able to stop it. Already, the beast wanted to touch. To caress and feel and smell and taste. He wanted to look and know his female. Only the man stopped him. Held him back and kept him in check.

  While the bear roared its fury, enough to make Mars feel like his brain was being rattled around his skull, he subsided after a little while. Though the bear wanted to stake his claim, now, surprisingly, it deferred to the human. It knew Mars would handle their little human mate better than he ever could.

  When that internal battle subsided, Mars sighed with relief as he puttered around his room, picking up after himself. He was a relatively neat guy, but he had a penis. Therefore wet towels from this morning’s shower did drape the floor, and yesterday’s socks were more out of the laundry basket than in.

  As he looked around his place once more, trying to see it through Annette’s eyes, he winced. Unlike his brothers, he’d chosen not to decorate. The place was spartan. Barren. Unsuitable for his mate, but it was his den, and his bear would rail at him if they didn’t claim Annette here, in his space.

  When things were copacetic, everything neatly put away, he took a seat in the armchair at the corner of his room. When he needed peace and quiet, he came here and watched sports on the TV he had above his bed, just for the moments when he wanted to sit in this armchair and swill down a beer without anyone’s eyes on him.

  Tilting his head back, he settled into the cushions and let himself look at Annette. Properly.