Prince of Bears: Autumn Court #2 (Rosethorn Valley Fae Romance)

by Tasha Black

  When he moved around the corner of the building and into the trees again, he was shocked, and pleased, to hear her small footsteps behind him.

  3

  Willow

  Against every ounce of her better judgement, Willow followed the bear around the corner and into the forest where he had gone.

  She was very sure she was about to be mauled, or worse.

  But something compelled her to stay close to the enormous creature, as if he represented the last tenuous hold on her sanity after the unlikely events she’d just witnessed. And he hadn’t turned his impressive fury on her. It had almost seemed like he was… protecting her.

  She stepped into the shadows, but when her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the woods, she saw there was no bear.

  A man stood before her instead, his eyes burning into hers with a passionate intensity. The same look she’d seen in the bear.

  It was crazy, but she had no doubt they were one and the same.

  The man was tall, with long dark hair, and so beautiful that it made her heart ache.

  It was odd to think of such a large man as beautiful, but there was something tragic about him, something vulnerable in spite of the broad planes of muscle and the strong jaw.

  “Ashe,” he said, his voice rich with meaning.

  She stepped closer, not sure what he meant by ah-shah. Maybe it was another language. He certainly didn’t seem like a local.

  He had just turned from a bear into a person. Could it be bear language?

  This is a dream, she told herself. It has to be. Nothing happening makes sense, not even my own thoughts.

  But when the man lifted a hand to stroke her cheek, she wished ardently that it was real.

  His gentle touch sent shockwaves of need through her.

  He definitely felt very, very real.

  “I found you,” he murmured. “I’m going to bring you back to Faerie to take your rightful place.”

  “Wait, what?” she asked.

  “I know why you ran away,” he told her earnestly. “But believe me, no one thinks you were involved in that plot. And the Autumn Court will not hold you as a prisoner.”

  “Plot?” she echoed stupidly, latching onto just one of the many things in his words that made no sense to her.

  But he wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was staring over her shoulder, his eyes wide.

  “He’s coming back,” he murmured, sweeping an arm around her. “There’s no time. We have to go.”

  His hand was tight on her hip before she could take her next breath.

  His other hand wrenched something off from around his neck and dashed it to the ground where it shattered on a rock.

  Buffeting wind filled her ears, and her vision blurred.

  She opened her mouth to scream, but the sound died in her throat as the world around her slipped away.

  She squeezed her eyes shut until the wind died down.

  When she opened them again, she was still on a wooded hillside. But there was no mistaking the fact that it was not the same one as before.

  The trees were all covered in bright fall leaves. And the hillside sloped down to a meadow with a river flowing through it, instead of a parking lot.

  They had not moved, she was sure of it. But to where?

  A huge, lazy snowflake drifted down, and then another one.

  “It’s snowing,” the man said wonderingly, as if that were the only odd thing going on here.

  4

  Heath

  Heath looked around the familiar landscape at a sight he’d never witnessed before.

  Snowflakes drifted down, dotting the scarlet leaves, leaving frozen kisses on his skin.

  Snow never fell in the Autumn Court.

  Something very strange was happening.

  But Ashe looked like she was going to be sick, so there was no time to worry about the weather.

  “Ashe,” he said as he helped her steady herself. “Ashe, are you okay?”

  “My name is Willow,” she said, confusion in her eyes. “Where are we?”

  He eyed her suspiciously, but she appeared to be telling the truth. Or at least she thought she was telling the truth.

  “Did he hurt you?” he asked, suddenly afraid.

  “Who?” she asked.

  “The bounty hunter,” he said. “Did he hurt you? Did he put a spell on you?”

  He passed a hand over her, but didn’t sense any residual magic, only the warmth coming off her body that made his heart beat just a little faster.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

  “It’s okay,” he told her gently. If she had been charmed, she wouldn’t remember anyway. The effects should wear off soon.

  “Everything is so strange,” she said softly.

  “Take my arm,” he offered. “We have a long way to walk. You’ll feel better when we arrive.”

  She didn’t take his arm. But she strode off in the direction he had indicated.

  He followed, slightly behind her.

  The bear nudged at his consciousness, urging him closer to her delicious scent.

  That was odd. He didn’t remember Ashe smelling like that. If he’d been tracking her solely by scent, he might not have recognized her at all.

  He shook his head and reminded himself that in the other world everything smelled horrible. It made sense that her smell would be affected, even after a short visit.

  They walked on in silence, as the snow continued to fall all around them.

  Heath had brought her here, close to the border between Autumn and Winter, hoping that with privacy they could talk frankly and make a commitment to save both courts.

  Heath maintained a hunting lodge nearby. There was no one around it for miles, except for a disgraced old doctor woman from the Winter Court who he allowed to squat in a cottage near his lodge in exchange for keeping an eye on the place.

  The snow was falling harder by the minute. It was definitely unnatural.

  Heath suppressed a shiver.

  He would have thought it had something to do with Ashe, except that it couldn’t be her. She had no magic.

  Ashe herself walked on bravely, though the terrain was growing steeper.

  He took a moment to examine her strange clothing - a white jerkin and a red skirt so short he could see her knees. Not at all suited for the snow, but that would hardly be an issue to anyone from the Winter Court. Atop the outfit, she wore a white apron, as if she were some kind of serving wench instead of a princess.

  My name is Willow.

  Where are we?

  Heath wondered how long it would be before she remembered herself.

  They had just reached the peak of the hillside when they hit a muddy patch.

  He opened his mouth to tell her to be careful, but before the words could leave him, her feet went completely out from under her.

  Heath grabbed for her, but she slid past him, tumbling down the bank toward the icy water of the river below.

  5

  Willow

  Willow slid down the muddy hillside toward the roar of the river below.

  She grasped at the underbrush, but the thin branches only slid through her fingers, taking a share of her skin as they did. She almost saved herself with a handhold on a jutting rock, but her momentum was too much, and it jerked out of her hand, send her tumbling madly toward the dark, icy water.

  The river below was deep and moving fast.

  Willow closed her eyes and braced herself, certain the water would be so frigid it would steal the air right out of her lungs.

  All thoughts left her mind except the will to stop…

  To halt…

  To freeze…

  Instead of the arctic plunge she expected, she landed hard on an unforgiving surface, and felt her ankle give out from under her with a crunch, singing out with pain as she slid on her bottom.

  “Ashe,” the man’s voice cried out.

  She opened her eyes to find that the entire surfa
ce of the river was frozen.

  She had seen it roiling just moments before. This was impossible.

  But the pain in her ankle and the solid wall of cold beneath her told her otherwise.

  Had the strange man done that somehow? Before she had time to think about it, he was clambering down the hillside after her.

  She watched as he launched himself onto the ice, surprisingly graceful in spite of his size and the slippery surface.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked.

  His deep voice seemed to caress her, and for a moment she almost forgot what words meant.

  “My ankle,” she said after a breath to clear her head.

  “Can you stand?” He offered her a hand.

  “Did you do this?” she asked, indicating the ice and ignoring the proffered hand.

  But part of her knew, even as she asked, that he had not.

  “No, that’s definitely Winter Court magic. I’m Autumn Court, remember?” he said. “But nice try. And very cool trick, by the way. When we get settled, you’re going to have to explain to me why you let everyone think you didn’t have magic.”

  “Magic?” she echoed.

  That was a subject she tried not to think about. But with the amazing things happening all around her, it was getting hard to ignore.

  “Look at your hands,” he said.

  She held them up.

  They were dirty and covered in scrapes form the branches. Something had gouged her left wrist and blood flowed freely down over her palm.

  “Here,” he said, ripping at his shirt.

  He tore off a generous section, just enough to reveal a set of impressive, six-pack abs. Was there a twenty-four-hour gym somewhere in these woods?

  She watched him as he bound her wrist. The heat pouring off him seemed enough to melt the ice beneath them.

  It was certainly melting something inside her.

  Either this was all a weird dream, or she really was in another world somehow - a world where her own weird abilities were… normal.

  In any case, she should be worried about what was happening around her, not losing her senses trying to catalogue everything about this man.

  “What’s your name?” she asked him, unable to stop herself.

  “I’m Heath,” he said, his eyes full of sympathy. “You really don’t remember me at all?”

  She shook her head slowly. She would definitely remember him if they’d met before.

  “Do you want to try to stand?” he asked.

  She nodded and took his hands.

  But when he pulled her up, her ankle threatened to collapse under her again.

  She clenched her jaw to stop herself from crying out in pain.

  “You twisted it,” he said sympathetically.

  He considered the ice and their surroundings for a moment, then seemed to come to some sort of decision.

  “Do you trust me?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said, without thinking, more than a little surprised to realize it was true.

  “First, I’m going to get you off the ice,” he said matter-of-factly. “Then I’m going to carry you up the hill.”

  She couldn’t help glancing up the hillside.

  She hadn’t appreciated how steep it was until faced with the idea of being carried up it.

  “I’m too heavy,” she protested.

  He chuckled and swung her up into his arms, carrying her across the ice and back onto the muddy bank as if she were a rag doll.

  “This will be just like riding a horse,” he told her as he placed her on the ground. “Just hang on however you need to. You can’t hurt me.”

  She had just enough time to wonder what the hell he was talking about when he began to fall forward.

  But that couldn’t be right. He was falling forward, but he was staying the same height.

  She watched in wonder as the big man transformed into a massive bear.

  She’d suspected he was tied to the bear in the parking lot. Part of her had even believed they were one and the same. But seeing it for herself was something else.

  The gigantic creature moved toward her and she found that she wasn’t afraid.

  She hadn’t really been afraid of the bear back in the parking lot either. As if something in her had known even then that he was to be trusted.

  The bear that was also the man called Heath lowered himself and nudged her with his massive snout.

  She stroked his thick, glossy fur for a moment.

  He gently head-butted her shoulder and she laughed.

  Then he lowered himself further, as if urging her on.

  Of course.

  Just hang on however you need to. You can’t hurt me.

  She managed to clamber onto his back, even with her bad ankle. He rose slowly so that she could accustom herself. She could feel the huge muscles rippling beneath her.

  She wrapped her hands in the tufts of fur around his shoulders, and he began to move.

  He took a few lumbering steps along the side of the river, as if to allow her to get used to him.

  “I’m okay,” she murmured, leaning close to his furry ears.

  The muscles beneath her coiled, and his ribcage expanded as he sucked in a few deep breaths of the cool air. Then they began to move swiftly up the mountain, branches slapping against the big bear’s fur as the undergrowth sped by in a blur.

  She had no idea that a bear could move so fast.

  Willow closed her eyes and hugged herself close to his back, her heart racing with the thrill of the pace he set.

  Too soon, he slowed, and she could see the trees thinning out at the top of the hill. They scrambled up the last of the incline and she spotted a meadow opening up before them.

  A massive house sat at the center of the clearing. Rough-hewn logs made up the most of it, and porches piled on top of each other all around it, as if it were a ship covered in balconies. The copper roof was green with age and exposure.

  Beyond the house, she could see the golds and fiery oranges of the autumn trees slowly being frosted with snow.

  The bear ambled up the steps of the first porch and lowered himself to the ground before the front door.

  She slipped off as gracefully as she could, putting all her weight on her good ankle, resting a hand on his shoulder.

  He nuzzled her with his snout, and she smoothed her other hand down the furry cheek.

  Then he closed his eyes and straightened up into man form once more.

  She still had a hand on his shoulder and the other on his jaw, but everything felt different now.

  Her whole body was alive with wanting.

  He lifted her effortlessly into his arms and carried her into the house.

  6

  Heath

  Heath cradled the woman in his arms, his heart already pounding with barely-restrained desire.

  Stop this. She’s hurt. She doesn’t even know who she is.

  But it was impossible not to notice that she was responding to him as well. He was too attuned to the rhythm of her breath and the beat of her heart not to feel them increase with his own.

  Her body trembled against his as he carried her through the great room and into his bedroom suite.

  The bed was enormous, with floor to ceiling views of the meadow and surrounding woods along two walls, a massive stone fireplace on the third, and a closet and door to the adjoining bath against the fourth.

  “Stay here,” he told her, placing her down on the bed.

  He headed for the bathroom without even making eye contact, afraid that the sight of her in his bed would push him over the edge.

  The bathroom had a huge soaking tub and another window overlooking the trees. He turned the taps to fill the tub with warm water and then moved to light candles around the space.

  He’d never given it much thought, but the lodge was infinitely romantic. It was the perfect place to bring a woman.

  But he never had brought one here.

  Until now.

  He headed
back for his room to retrieve her, but she wasn’t on his bed.

  For a horrible instant, he tried to imagine what he would do if she had run again, injured and cold into a magical snow storm.

  But she was standing by the mantel, gazing at a miniature painting.

  “She’s beautiful,” she said, turning back to him and looking a little guilty for snooping.

  “That’s my mother,” he told her. “She was the Autumn Queen.”

  She gazed at him with sympathy. He didn’t have to tell her that his mother had joined the spirits.

  “Come,” he told her.

  She moved to him instantly, and he felt a surge of pride at her submissiveness.

  But she was still limping, and his heart ached with every painful step she took.

  “Wait,” he told her, striding over and wrapping an arm around her so she could lean on him.

  He led her into the bathroom, and she looked around appreciatively.

  “This place is amazing,” she said.

  “I am happy you like it,” he replied. “It is my second home. Everything here was designed to accentuate the beauty of Autumn.”

  She glanced longingly at the steaming tub.

  “Yes, that’s for you,” he chuckled. “I’m going to help you undress now.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself instinctively.

  “I will not touch you if you do not wish to be touched,” he told her, being careful to look into her eyes. “But you are hurt and shaken. I do not want you to risk a fall on the stone floor.”

  She studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly.

  He moved behind her and tugged at the tie of her white apron.

  It slid to the floor with a strange clunk.

  “My tips,” she said.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Money that I earned at work,” she explained.

  He bent to retrieve the apron, feeling completely confused.

  Indeed she was right, flimsy mortal coins and faded green paper bills were wadded in the smallest pocket.

  How far ahead of him had she been?