He loved how her pussy grabbed him when he moved inside her. What would it feel like to be inside her unsheathed? Clearly he was going crazy. He would not be producing any offspring. God knows the type of father he’d be; probably just like his, who disappeared when he was too young to remember him.
Caleb ran his index finger down her spine. He stopped at the base, where his uninjured thumb massaged her lower back. This woman was made for vigorous sex. He continued his massage. Little tremors ran along her legs, her body still reeling from her orgasms.
Caleb propped his head onto his elbow. His fingers wandered across her stomach. Such lovely smooth skin. The freckles sprinkled here and there reminded him of constellations. He leaned down, kissing her mouth leisurely. Her lips were reddened from his kisses.
Just seeing her like this, Caleb felt crazed with jealousy. She was his. He was clearly hers. Her hair tumbled down over her breasts. She was naked in his bed. Oh, the possibilities.
He smoothed his fingers up her side, across her collarbone, and down around her breasts. Her nipples hardened. She wasn’t getting out of his bed so easily. Giving her up was going to be harder than he’d thought.
Fourteen hours later, after his ER shift, Caleb pulled his aging Subaru Outback into the parking lot of his foster mother’s retirement housing complex. He wanted to get this visit over with.
He exhaled. He’d not seen Vera since he left for Anchorage. But he’d talked to both her and a hospital social worker, Michelle, on the phone. Michelle had been candid with him. “She’ll need help with meals, laundry, and personal care. Budget cuts have decimated social services. Now’s the time to crack open the piggy bank.”
Michelle had also invited him to call her when he got back to town.
His foster mother had no savings, and bills had accumulated over her illness. They’d be sent to collections soon unless he could do something about them. He’d take care of them, along with his own medical-school loans. The extra work at the S&S would come in handy this one last time. Outside her door, he wondered if she could even hear the doorbell chime over the TV volume.
“Who is it?”
“Caleb.”
“Caleb who?”
“You only know one.”
“Who was the greatest illusionist that ever lived?”
“The Great Mancini.” Her dead husband had passed away before Caleb came to live with her.
Bolts, chains, and locks twisted on the other side.
She opened the door a crack. “Oh. It’s you.”
Caleb pushed down his irritation. She was a frail woman in her early eighties. She was the closest thing he’d ever had to family.
Better not to dwell on that.
She opened the door enough for him to slide in. He kissed the papery skin on her cheek and presented her with an arrangement of daisies.
“I hope you swiped them from a dead patient’s room,” she said.
“I don’t swipe flowers. I’m a physician now.”
Vera snorted, waving him inside before locking them in. The combined aromas of talcum powder, hairspray, and scented candles made his eyes water. After ten minutes of hearing about all her complaints, the idea of picking up a few shifts at the casino no longer seemed so disagreeable.
What got to him most was the clutter. Caleb craved order the way some people craved sweets or red meat. Old newspapers, empty jam jars containing miscellaneous buttons, and stacks of paper covered every flat surface.
“Mrs. Neidermider goes through my garbage bin at night,” Vera said when she noticed his look. She made her way to her patched-up leather recliner.
“Isn’t she still in a wheelchair?” Caleb asked. He was glad she hadn’t tried to hug him. Affection made him uneasy. It was too unpredictable.
It took some effort for Vera to get situated. He remained standing. The visit wouldn’t be long enough to disturb the chaos of debris.
“My trash bin is always turned over in the mornings, with the papers strewn all over.”
“That’s probably a bear.”
“What business would a bear have with my papers?” She batted a hand. “She’s always wanted this apartment. The banana bread she brought over when I came home from the hospital had nuts in it. Everyone knows I’m allergic to nuts.”
“Maybe you should be getting out more,” Caleb said. “Social work said the ride-service van will take you to the senior center.”
“If I wanted to play cards with forgetful, tightfisted idiots, I’d go to the casino. The last thing I need is to be sitting around eating government cheese in bad lighting at the senior center.” She plucked the glasses hanging on a chain off her chest and settled them on her nose. Her bright eyes studied him from behind smudged lenses. “Now that you mention it, you working the club for the Spectacle?”
“One show.”
When it came to things that interested her, nothing deterred Vera.
“Only one show! What a waste, sticking your hands up people’s bums. You’ve got the hands of a master illusionist,” she said.
Caleb stood up. He recognized the start of an old argument. She’d never forgiven him for choosing medicine over magic. After spending her life in the latter, she respected it. He chose a lifetime of security over scrambling to string together gigs. She would never agree on his choice. Then again she wasn’t living with an ice bear inside her either.
His foster mother had provided the only real home he’d ever known when he came to live with her at age fifteen. He was at the end of the line with foster homes. No one wanted a rebellious ice bear shifter.
Vera had seen something in him. He liked to think it was love. Her husband had been an ice bear shifter. More likely, it was a combination of factors, including his facility for numbers and his nimble fingers.
The day she first brought him home, she fed him macaroni and cheese and chicken-fried steak. He’d overeaten, fearful that he might never see that much food again. After dinner, she’d produced antacids and a new deck of cards.
Back then, he’d fancied himself a bit of a card shark. He’d been keen to show off for this older lady and perhaps score a few bucks off her in the process.
He’d taken her for an easy mark.
He’d been wrong.
“Cub, you’re prison-bound right now.” Vera had expertly reshuffled the deck after beating him handily. “With you being a shifter and having your temper, trouble will always find you. But you won’t wind up in prison. You know why?” She’d lit a fresh Lucky Strike, inhaled, then released the smoke through her nostrils.
“Are you an ice dragon shifter?” Caleb blurted. He’d heard they had second sight, but he’d never met one that he knew of. This woman had seen his future just the way he did.
“Former chorus girl.” She waved out her match. “Now pay attention. I’m going to teach you every secret illusion my dear husband taught me.”
Car breaks squealed outside, jerking Caleb back to the present.
“So what’s new?” Vera asked.
Caleb paced, sat down, then immediately jumped up again. “I’ve claimed someone.”
“About time you made your mark. Way past time, in fact. What’s the problem?”
“It was an accident.”
“Apparently not, or you wouldn’t have claimed her,” Vera said dryly.
“There’s no future for her in Icy Cap.” Caleb thought this was a very undignified conversation. He’d become a physician to know things, not to get spun around like a compass at the pole. He took a deep breath. “How do I unclaim her?”
Vera eyed him through her heavy spectacles. “Poor Caleb. How did such a smart boy turn out to be such a dumb man?”
Caleb opened his mouth to protest.
She raised a hand to stop him. “You came here asking for my help. I’m going to give it to you whether you like it or not. Your ice bear doesn’t choose a mate the way you hire staff at that fancy hospital of yours. It’s survival instinct that guides the ice bear, not a list of chec
k marks.”
“You can’t tell me that every ice bear union ends happily. Surely there’s a way to undo the bond.”
“Sure, there are the occasional bad pairings. If that’s the case, one of them usually kills the other.”
Caleb sat down hard in an overstuffed chair, and a pile of debris next to him slowly slid to the floor. He dropped his head into his hands, staring down at his boots. “I really wish people would stop suggesting I kill her.”
He rubbed his hands on his face and stood up.
“It’s been a long day,” he said, covering her hand with his own. “I’m going home. I’ll come again soon.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” Caleb squeezed her hand gently. Up close, he could see how she’d tried to hide her pallor under her makeup. Her left eyelid jerked to a rhythm all its own.
She pulled her hand from under his and patted his cheek a bit harder than necessary. “After all these years, you’re still a lousy liar.”
7
Lea
For the next week, Lea’s life seesawed between good and bad news. The good news: the trouble Paddy had at the club stopped. No more threats. No more dead elves or anything else. Lea was a little disappointed but mostly relieved. She hadn’t made any progress besides finding the hole in the dead elf’s head. And that was not especially helpful. She had no suspects beyond Paddy thinking it was vamps.
The bad news was that rehearsals for the Spectacle were not going well. Trolls didn’t really care about Christmas spirit or cooperating during rehearsals.
In the questionable column were her nights with little sleep—thanks to her activities with Caleb. That she enjoyed them was beyond a doubt; their thirst for each other wasn’t diminishing for either of them, as far as she could tell. She’d left undoing the claim for him to sort out, figuring that a. since he created the problem he should fix it and b. she had enough to deal with already.
In the meantime, the sex was incredible. And she was finding herself more than a bit fond of him. She could tell how he was feeling when they were separated. There was a connection between them. When they were together it was like being two sides of a coin. This claim was powerful stuff, and she’d be careful to watch out for it with other lovers. Not everyone was as honest as Caleb.
The practices with Wanda weren’t going well either. Her friend, who usually seemed so graceful, was all thumbs. The two women practiced for two hours before every general rehearsal, and Paddy had hired Vera as a consultant.
“I’m really beginning to loathe feathers,” Lea said.
Wanda nodded. “Tell me about it. My wrists are killing me.”
Paddy pulled a dinged-up steamer trunk onto the stage. “What do you have in here, a body?”
“It’s all the brass that makes it heavy, but what’s inside is worth it, believe me.”
Wanda and Lea glanced at each other. Paddy and Vera flirted outrageously, but their relationship appeared stuck in the friend zone despite both being single octogenarians.
“Come back in a few hours.” Vera waved Paddy away before pointing to the trunk. “Girls, open her up.”
It took both Lea and Wanda some effort to free the stiff locks, and then all three women leaned in as they opened the lid.
Folds of white tissue paper layered the chest. Lea carefully pulled out sheet after sheet. She spied a lavender feather fan twice the size of her torso and handed it to Wanda, then retrieved its mate. Waving it, she admired the ostrich feathers rippling at the slightest movement. They made the synthetic fans she and Wanda used for practice look like cardboard.
“Keep going,” Vera said.
Lea dug further, revealing two more sets of feather fans. A medium-size set was a darker lavender. The smallest set was indigo blue.
Lea and Wanda whirled around with them, delighted at their movement.
“I never thought I’d see them in use again.” Vera pulled a Kleenex from her cardigan pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “I’m damned proud of you two.”
The timing and showmanship in burlesque fascinated Lea. The fans wouldn’t merely be props—they were an extension of the dancer’s relationship with the audience. Vera demonstrated how glimpses of skin behind strategically placed fans heightened the audience’s anticipation. The dancer’s power was in reeling them in, then prolonging their excitement.
After her dance career ended, maybe she should’ve tried her hand at choreography. But she’d always been so damned impulsive. She panicked and jumped into the PI biz, desperate to feel whole again. So far all she’d achieved was doing everything half assed. After this show, she was returning home and making her brothers include her in their investigations. Her sleuthing around for Paddy had showed her how little she knew.
The act began with the largest pair of fans and theatrically added and discarded fans, pair by pair, down to the smallest. The timing was tricky, as the dancer had to exchange the fans herself on stage without dropping them, breaking time with her music, or revealing her entire body. Wanda’s transitions were clunky and her movements too showy. She struggled to maintain her focus. Wanda needed time, and they were short on it. The Spectacle was a week away.
That night, Wanda offered Lea a ride home. During the car ride, her friend said, “I’m suing if I get carpal tunnel.”
“Maybe you need a break from Icy Cap. Is all this darkness is getting to you?”
“I’m fine. So spill: Caleb’s been back for weeks. I’ve seen his car. And you haven’t said a thing,” Wanda said.
“I haven’t seen him much.”
“Liar.” Wanda glanced at her. “You’ve been knocking boots for years. Now you’re sharing a trailer and nothing’s going on? I’m not buying it.”
Lea fiddled with the heater, angling the vents to blast warm air toward her face.
“You Rileys certainly have a thing with strays.” Wanda smacked the steering wheel with her palm.
“You can’t say a thing to anyone.” Lea begged, turning to her friend.
“What’s the big secret? You’re both adults.”
“It’s not that.” Lea repositioned the vents again. “It’s nothing serious.”
She fled the car as soon as it came to a stop, then fumbled with trailer key, cursing as it hesitated in the lock. When it gave way, she stumbled inside, slamming the door behind her. She locked it, and then slid the chain across for good measure. She leaned back up against it as if she could keep the outside world from intruding inside.
“Everything okay?” Caleb stood in the bedroom doorway, wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He was barefoot and held a textbook in one hand and his wire-rim glasses in the other.
It was the glasses that undid her. She didn’t know he wore glasses. She thought she knew so much about him, but it was an illusion. All she knew was how he liked to fuck.
Lea dropped her bag at the door and launched herself at him. He dropped the book, catching her easily in mid-leap. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. She didn’t say anything, only pressed her body against him as if she could fuse herself to him.
He stroked her hair. “What’s the matter?”
She pulled back, taking his face in her hands. She kissed him deeply, open-mouthed. She wanted to block the world outside this apartment. There was only one way she knew to do that. “Fuck me.”
Caleb’s puzzled face relaxed into a smile. His fingers dug into her ass. “Since you asked so nicely . . .”
He unzipped her jacket. She wore a blouse, not a T-shirt. He made short work of her buttons as he sat on the bed with her standing before him.
“I thought you had to work tonight?” she asked.
“Census was low; too many docs working. I volunteered to leave early.”
With her shirt gone, he swallowed, staring at her black lace bra. “Are your panties black lace too?” he asked. His voice sounded strangled.
“Guess you’d better check.”
He’d come home early to see her. It shouldn
’t mean anything, but right now it meant everything to Lea.
8
Caleb
Caleb counted Lea’s heartbeats as she slept sprawled across his chest. He’d dozed off after he’d come inside her. Now her heart rate was back to normal. He’d been surprised to discover that even her accelerated heartbeat turned him on.
Lea snuggled closer to him in her sleep, sighing. Along with their frequent nighttime coupling, he liked having her sleep in his bed. Being with her felt so natural, so easy. But it could never work. She wouldn’t want to be saddled with him forever. Her life was in New York with her family and her job. Relocation was not an option for him. What was he to do, roam around Central Park as an ice bear?
Now, lying in bed, Caleb pulled Lea closer.
Something clearly had been bothering her when she came home tonight. He’d felt her approach, and her agitated state had made him leave his studying. Now he wondered what it was. The fact that he cared gave him pause. Maybe the claim they shared was truer than he’d suspected?
Caleb had learned long ago that life was hard and taking care of yourself was the best bet. Still, Lea wasn’t used to being away from her family. And with the holidays approaching, it couldn’t be easy. She trusted him to undo his claim. He’d not been anywhere near truthful with her on that. He didn’t want to think about why.
He envied her family life. He couldn’t imagine what it was like to have normal people who cared about you. Life with Vera was full of club people, who were one step removed from carnival folk. They formed a family of sorts, but not the kind he’d craved.
Lea murmured. He gave her a gentle squeeze in his arms. She quieted, falling back into a deep sleep. Tomorrow would come soon enough.
Just after 7:30 the next evening, Caleb stepped outside the medical center and inhaled the evening air. After he’d been inside a windowless emergency department for twelve hours, the twilight’s lavender scent stunned him.
A Christmas Spectacle to Bear Page 6