Sold To The Bears (A BBW Paranormal Romance Book 1)

by Amira Rain

  The fact that shifters possessed increased sexual appetite and stamina was pretty evident. Once Adrian had growled his climax, Grant took me from behind, bringing me to the heights of rapture yet again with deep, powerful thrusts while periodically using a hand to lightly squeeze my stiffened nipples.

  I fell asleep that night snuggled in the middle of a Grant-and-Adrian sandwich. A breeze just faintly scented with the first changing leaves of early fall wafted in through a cracked window. I slept like the dead, waking only once, briefly, before immediately going back to sleep, feeling two sets of strong arms around me.

  When I woke up late the next morning, I was alone. Shafts of bright sunlight slanted across the bed, highlighting the spots where Grant and Adrian had slept the night before.

  I didn't see either of them all day. They were both busy dealing with the disposal of the wolf carcasses from the night before, in addition to running patrols with Grant's men and meeting with some of his advisors.

  All afternoon and early evening, Fiona and I looked after Samuel's young boys, Brandon and Martin They were high-energy boys who needed lots of looking after and redirection, and I was glad of it.

  They distracted me from wondering if and when Grant was going to talk to me about what had happened with the wolves the night before, specifically what had happened with the wolves and me. Me and my stupid choice to get out of the truck in a blind rage.

  That evening, I volunteered to help Mil fix dinner, which I would have done anyway, but truth be told, I was somewhat eager for any information about Grant and his anger level as well.

  I wasn't foolish enough to think that our marathon lovemaking session the night before had erased all traces of his anger. Or even any of it. Which made me nervous. I felt like the more time that passed, and the longer he had to stew, his anger at me might actually grow. Which might eventually cause him to turn away from me.

  That was one thing I knew I just wouldn't be able to take. Him expressing his anger at me, yes. Him maybe even raising his voice at me, yes. But him turning away from me and going back to the same level of emotional coldness that he'd displayed before revealing that he and his men hadn't been responsible for killing Gray and Estelle, no. I couldn't go back to that.

  I was also eager to find out what Grant had meant when he'd said he was grateful that fate had seen fit to give him another chance to save me from the wolves. That statement was still puzzling me, to say the least.

  Additionally, I wanted to ask him what he'd meant when he'd said he did have a guilty conscience, though not because he or his people had had anything to do with Gray and Estelle's murders. That statement absolutely baffled me. If he really hadn't had anything to do with the murders, which I firmly believed was true, I couldn't imagine what on earth he had to feel guilty about.

  Obviously, he and I needed to talk. And soon, before my nerves got any worse. And before his anger had more of a chance to grow. In the meantime, since I had no way of knowing when he'd return to the family house, I'd try to gauge his anger level from Mil.

  She stood at the stove, mashing potatoes in a large pot. She'd been civil to me, of course, during our time in the kitchen, though not very talkative. While I stood at the counter, chopping lettuce for a salad, trying to think of the best way to bring up the subject of Grant, it dawned on me that maybe she was mad at me, too. Or maybe she just thought I was a complete damned idiot and was disgusted with me.

  Or, I also realized, Grant might have told her about me thinking that he and the bears had been behind Gray and Estelle's murders, and maybe she was angry that I'd thought that. As well as being angry that because of that thinking, I'd kind of acted like a jerk when I'd first come to Sun Creek.

  Figuring an apology should perhaps be first in order, I set down my chopping knife and cleared my throat. "Mil, I really want to apologize. I'm sorry."

  She turned from the stove and looked at me with her dark brown eyes slightly widened, as if she was surprised. "Sorry? For what?"

  I lifted my shoulders in a weak shrug. "First, for maybe being a little cold and rude when I first met you. Which was because I thought Grant, Adrian, and the rest of the bear shifters had murdered my adoptive parents, which I'm sorry about, too. I'm also sorry for...." I shrugged again, more than a bit embarrassed, “for acting like a complete idiot last night. Something tells me Grant told you some of the highlights this morning. I’m sorry you had to hear them. I'm sorry for letting my temper and my anger at the wolves get the better of me.

  “I was acting like someone you're probably none too thrilled to think of as your future niece. I'm sorry about...well, just everything."

  Mil immediately set the potato masher down, wiped her hands on a dish towel, and came over to stand in front of me, arms across her chest. "First of all, stop that 'I'm sorry about everything' nonsense. Being 'sorry about everything' isn't an attractive quality in a person Furthermore, you have absolutely no reason to be 'sorry about everything,' or even anything. For another thing, not that I've known you very long, but 'sorry about everything' just doesn't seem like you.

  “Which I'm glad about, because 'sorry about everything' women tend to irritate me. For the record, I am thrilled to think of you as my future niece. You have a strong will and a fighting spirit, yet a little sweetness underneath. I like that.”

  Pausing, she leaned a hip against a row of oak drawers beneath the counter top, studying me. "Grant is angry with you, yes. Which I can tell is what you've been working up the nerve to ask me about. And that's what's got you in this mopey, 'sorry for everything' kind of mood, isn't it?"

  I nodded, a little surprised and appreciative of her perceptiveness at the same time.

  After blowing a dark brown curl out of her face, she continued. "You allowed something to take over you last night, and you made a mistake. A mistake, not an unforgivable sin. Grant is angry, yes. But something tells me that anger is directly in proportion to his fear that the wolves might have hurt you, or worse. He cares for you deeply already, that I can tell.

  “Apologize to him for making him feel that fear, but that's it. And then you move on. As, I suspect, will he. That's my advice. Don't become one of those women who's 'sorry for everything' all the time. That's not who you are, and that's not what this situation warrants.

  “Forgive yourself for your lapse in judgment if you need to, and vow to display better judgment and self-control in the future. Maybe assure Grant that you will. But don't go overboard with the apologies to him, like you did here with me tonight.

  “Your mistakes and choices are your own. Our mistakes and choices affect other people, yes, and we should always be aware of that. When Grant and the other men return, don't greet him as a 'sorry Sally.'"

  I knew she was right. I shouldn't go overboard in my apologies to Grant. The 'sorry for everything' kind of women had always kind of irritated me, too, and I didn't want to become one. I would apologize for making him afraid that I might be hurt or killed.

  I would express my regrets that he'd had to defend me because of my lack of judgment. I'd then assure him that I was committed to making better choices in the future, which I was. Hopefully, after that, we could move on.

  And specifically, move on to me getting some answers about the statements he'd made in regards to him being grateful he'd gotten a second chance to save me from the wolves, and him having a guilty conscience, though not from anything having to do with Gray and Estelle.

  Meanwhile, Mil's term 'sorry Sally' had made me crack a smile for some reason.

  She smiled in return, crinkling the corners of her eyes. "Glad that made you smile. I needed one, too. And our baked chicken in the oven is smelling a little too good for any more talk that isn't directly related to dinner."

  It really did smell delicious. The tempting scent of baked chicken rubbed with herbs was quickly filling the whole kitchen.

  After giving me another smile, Mil went back to the pot of mashed potatoes. "I can tell your nerves are frayed, and min
e are, too, with all these wolves around lately. It's had me a little preoccupied this evening, to tell you the truth. I think what we both need is a good meal with large glasses of equally good wine."

  That sounded good to me, and we soon did just that.

  Later that evening, alone in my rooms, I waited up for Grant and Adrian, hoping they'd return before I fell asleep. I was specifically waiting up for Grant. By midnight, he still hadn't returned, and neither had Adrian. I got into bed and curled up with part of the blanket that still held Grant's woodsy, masculine scent.

  I dreamed dreams of him telling me that he couldn't forgive me for my stupid decision to get out of the truck and take on the wolves. I dreamed that he told me we couldn't move on. I dreamed that he told me that he no longer cared for me as a woman and a whole person anymore, and had only engaged in physical intimacy with me the night before because he'd been "bored."

  In these vaguely nightmarish dreams, I was crying. I woke up several times during the night with an ache in my chest. I was beginning to realize that while I cared for Adrian and Grant both, my feelings for Grant were beginning to run deep.

  The following evening, to my extreme relief, I finally got a chance to find out if the fears I'd had in my dreams were founded or not. Grant, Adrian, Samuel, and Steven Ashcrest finally returned to the family house just before dinner, and after the meal, Grant asked if he could speak to me alone in my rooms.

  The moment we sat down together, I apologized for the things I'd planned on apologizing for, and then I told him that I planned on using better judgment in the future. I looked him right in the eyes and meant everything I said.

  I then paused and took a deep breath. "So. Considering that...do you think you can get over your anger at me? Do you think you can forgive me? Can we move on?"

  Grant looked down at our clasped hands, frowning. The look in his icy blue eyes instantly made my stomach churn.

  *

  With his pale blue eyes troubled, and his gaze on our clasped hands and not my face, Grant didn't answer my questions. He appeared to be thinking something over, or planning what he was going to say, but my churning stomach just couldn't wait for his response much longer.

  I squeezed his hands with mine, becoming a little cold. "Grant? Please say something. Can you forgive me and get over your anger at me so we can move on?"

  With a sigh, he finally lifted his gaze to my face and spoke. "Of course I can forgive you. Of course. Already have. My anger has cooled as well."

  I exhaled in a rush. "Good. Good. I have to admit, I'm a little relieved."

  Looking deeply into my eyes, he began slowly caressing the backs of my hands with his thumbs. "I just want you to understand why I was so angry." With his frown deepening, he paused, searching my face. "I was so angry because I was very scared.

  “Which is a very unfamiliar feeling for me. In fact, before the other night, I can't even remember the last time I felt real, genuine fear. The other night, I definitely did. When I saw those two great gray wolves hovering above you, attacking you, I definitely did.

  “My heart jumped up so high in my throat I felt like I was literally choking for a second. I was scared that you might be hurt and that I might lose you. That fear turned into anger when I immediately realized that you must have intentionally unlocked the door and voluntarily stepped out of the truck to take on the wolves yourself.

  “I am so angry because you put yourself in a very dangerous situation. I'd been very specific about what I wanted you to do. Which, as I recall, included remaining in the truck with the doors locked."

  I swallowed, a bit embarrassed. "I know. I know what I did was reckless and stupid. But in my defense...well, something just kind of took over me. I thought about how Malachi and his wolves killed my birth parents, and then my adoptive parents, and I just felt overcome by this feeling of hatred for all wolves. I felt taken over by...by some sort of a blind rage."

  Grant frowned again, and I gave my head a quick shake.

  "Doesn't matter what I was taken over by, though. No excuses. All that matters is that it won't happen again. All that matters is that we can move forward."

  The churning in my stomach had lessened, but now an increasingly troubled look in Grant's eyes started it back up again.

  I gave his warm, large hands a squeeze. "We can move forward, right? Just say that we can. Just say that you're still open to the possibility of...." I paused, swallowing. "Of me maybe choosing you as my mate for life."

  Making a faint sigh, he picked up my hands and planted a gentle kiss, his mouth firm and warm, on each one before setting them back down and looking into my eyes again. "Of course. I'm still very open to that possibility, and maybe more open to it than even you realize. I care for you deeply, Lila. I'm beginning to think I might care for you more deeply than I've ever cared for any other woman in my life. But here's the thing."

  He paused, lowering his gaze to our clasped hands, seeming hesitant to continue.

  I scooted a little closer to him on the overstuffed tan couch with my stomach in knots. "What's 'the thing?' What is it?"

  He suddenly lifted his gaze to my face. "I don't trust you. That's the thing. I don't trust you to help me keep you safe. Which I've come to see as my responsibility, and it will definitely, without a doubt, be my responsibility if you ultimately choose me to be your mate for life. This troubles me...because I'd like to be able to trust my life mate in all areas across the board. Like I said...I don't trust you to help me keep you safe right now. I doubt your ability to control your own actions."

  "But you can trust me, though. You can. I realize that I made a serious mistake that put me in harm's way, and I've resolved never to do it again. I've resolved to make more rational, mature, levelheaded choices in the future."

  "You yourself said that at the time, you weren't exactly in control of yourself and felt as if something had taken over you. This complicates things. Your level of anger toward the wolves is very, very understandable, considering what happened in the past.

  “They were responsible for you losing your parents, twice, and then they betrayed your trust in them not only by that, but by selling you, too. It's very understandable. I don't think you'd be human if you didn't have a lot of anger toward them. And maybe some wild urge for a little revenge, even. Because of this, you're unpredictable. You're not in control of your actions around the wolves. I can't trust you to help me keep you safe around the wolves."

  The irony was not lost on me that when I'd first arrived in Sun Creek, I hadn't trusted him. Now I did. But he didn't trust me. At least not in this one particular area. As much as I didn't like to admit it, I knew his mistrust was justified.

  Still caressing the backs of my hands with his thumbs, he continued. "We can move forward. I want to more than anything."

  "I do, too. I want that more than anything, too. I want to rebuild your trust in me. So, the next time I'm faced with any wolves-"

  "No. I'll never allow you to be in a position where you're ever faced with any wolves, ever again. Ever. Far, far too dangerous. With your unpredictability-"

  "But then, how am I ever supposed to rebuild your trust in me about this?"

  "You just do what I ask you to do in order to never be faced with any wolves ever again. If I tell you to not take walks in certain parts of the city near the outskirts, you don't. If I tell you to never go out to visit the orchards without me, you don't. If I tell you to never again take off running down the main road leading out of town, you don't. Ever.

  “No matter how upset you are. No matter how badly you want to run. You follow my instructions to help me keep you safe. You follow them to the letter. No matter if you feel controlled, or overprotected, or if you feel like I'm being a complete overbearing jerk. Then, over time, some of the trust about this issue might be regained. Do you understand, Lila?"

  With the knots in my stomach slowly unraveling, I nodded. "Yes. I know your trust in me can't be rebuilt overnight. But I will rebuild it. You
'll see."

  Grant lifted my hands and kissed each of them again. "Good. Will you promise me this? That you'll try to follow all my instructions in regards to your safety from now on?"

  I nodded, more than determined. "Yes. And I don't promise to try to follow all your instructions in regards to my safety, I promise that I will.”

  "Good."

  "But now...now I have some questions for you."

  Grant gave me the faintest hint of a smile, the corners of his delectable full mouth just barely lifting. "I thought you might. I definitely owe you some explanations. So, ask away."

  "All right. The first question is this. The night that the wolves attacked...when I ran from the city, and then you found me in the truck, and I accused you of killing my adoptive parents...you said that you didn't, but that you did have a guilty conscience about something. You never told me what that something was.

  “What did you mean that same night when you said you were glad that fate saw fit to give you another chance to save me from the wolves? Just go ahead and please answer whichever question you like first."