Desired by the Bear - Book 1: BBW Werebear Shifter Romance Page 3

  My car shimmies as a tractor trailer blows by me on my left, and I glance down at my speedometer to make sure I’m not going too slowly. I notice my fuel tank light indicates I’m low on gas, and I begin to search for the next exit. When I pull off the highway I find a small convenience store with two pumps, and I pull up to them. Large letters on the machine make it clear you pay inside, and I wonder how many stupid tourists they had searching for a place to swipe their credit card before they put up the sign. It never ceases to amaze me how so many people overlook the little things, and I capitalize on that as often as possible.

  I remember one of my grandfather’s favorite sayings. “The devil is in the details, Kelsey. Don’t you ever forget it.” I grew up in the same house my mother did, with my grandparents sharing in my upbringing. I never worried much about having a father, because my grandfather filled his shoes well. In fact, I had it better as a kid than many of my friends who had both parents, because I was close to all three of the adults who raised me. And I think that’s why I’m so sure I can realize my dream. Nobody ever made me feel as if I couldn’t. And when the Lances out there tried, I didn’t listen.

  I sigh, because lately my mother and I haven’t gotten along. She was dead set against me coming here for my internship, and I have no idea why. Every time I tried to talk to her about it, she shut me down.

  The old pump ticks as numbers roll and gas whooshes into my tank. I step away from the fumes and wander toward the store as I take in my surroundings. Snow that looks fresh is on the ground, and purple crocuses are vivid against it as they poke up through as if they’re trying to reach for the sun. I blink as I experience a moment of déjà vu. But the idea I was here before is foolish. I have a brand-new passport to prove this is my first time out of the United States. I return to my car to monitor the pump.

  When I finish filling up I contemplate briefly if I should move my vehicle before paying, but considering traffic is light and one could easily pull into three other spots to get gas, I decide against it. I make my way to the shop to pay and pick up a snack. The plastic sign on the door that says Open is crooked, but I refrain from straightening it and walk over to get a bag of chips.

  The eerie feeling I’ve been here before is back, and I close my eyes for a moment to figure out what is triggering it. Maybe I’ve been in a store that’s similar? I shake my head because it’s not coming to me. It’s like the dream you’re having when the alarm goes off, but by the time you’ve made it to the bathroom you can’t recall what it was about.

  A water bottle is cool in my hand as I grab it from the fridge, and cans clink as a teenaged boy with red hair like mine fills shelves farther down. I make my way to the counter to pay. Nobody is manning the register, and I notice what appears to be an office door off to the right. I call out in that direction. “Anyone here?”

  The boy jogs over from the shelves to help me. When our gazes connect his eyes widen. Mine probably do too, because not only is his hair like mine, his eyes are also my same dark-teal color. He even has a sprinkle of freckles over his nose and cheeks where I do. Whoa. He could be my little brother. He stammers, “Ca- You look--” The boy glances toward the door I think is the office, and his face reddens as he asks, “Will that be all?”

  “What were you going to say?” I ask.

  “Nothin’ I’m s’pose to. Sorry.”

  I tease him with the hope he’ll open up. “If you were going to tell me I’m beautiful, I’m okay with that.”

  Now his face is completely flushed, and he sputters. “That’s not what I--” He stops as if he suddenly got I was joking and glares at me.

  I chuckle. “I know I’m too old for you, but I think you’re pretty hot too.” I wink and say, “I got gas on pump three.”

  Change rattles as the drawer pops open, and a woman with chestnut-colored hair that falls over her shoulders in soft waves steps out of the office as she asks, “You got it, Randy?”

  When she sees me she gasps, and her hand flies to her mouth. Her shock wears off quickly, and she frowns before she composes herself. “Forgive me, you look like someone I know.”

  “Oh.” I glance at Randy, but he won’t make eye contact. My bag rustles as I lift it to leave.

  “Wait,” the woman says. “What--” She pauses to paste on a saccharine smile. “Are you vacationing?”

  I’m curious why she cares but answer anyway, “No. I’m moving to Safe Harbor to work at Ouellette Yachts.” I can’t help share my excitement about my new position, and I say, “I got an internship to work with the best. I can’t believe my luck.”

  The woman’s smile appears to be held in place by a thread as she says, “That is lucky. Good for you.”

  I turn my gaze to Randy, and he averts his eyes as if I caught him staring. I ask, “This person I look like, are they a relative?”

  The woman shakes her head, and I think I see fear flash in her eyes. I say, “Maybe we’re long lost cousins or something. Do you have family in Maine?”

  I was wrong. It wasn’t fear. It was anger. The woman scowls before she says in a harsh voice that makes me want to run, “No. My relatives all live in Canada.”

  I step back as I say, “Right. Sorry.” I turn and walk out quickly, because something very strange is going on, and I don’t think I want to know.

  When I get to my car, I drive away instead of taking a moment to open my snack. My déjà vu is back in full force, and the sensation is mixed with a bit of dread. This time a sliver of a memory comes with it. Something about a bear. And then I snap to a recollection of dreams I used to have a few years ago. Which is strange because it makes no sense I’d think of them now. They were about a gorgeous, totally cut blond guy who was all about me, until a bear showed up.

  I grab my chips, and the steering wheel is hard on my knee when I lift it to hold the wheel steady as I rip the bag open. Crisp potato crunches in my mouth as I push the unpleasant thoughts away. Nothing can ruin my good mood. I’m only fifteen minutes from my destination and the beginning of something great. As my grandfather would say, I can feel it in my bones.

  6

  Izzy

  Jean Luc’s office is in one of the workshops that are large enough to accommodate sailboats up to an impressive seventy-six feet. Although he told me they’ve only made one that long. A sanding machine buzzes as I glance up at the loft-like section where my mate waits. On my way over I spoke to him telepathically and told him I was bringing lunch. He waves at me from a large window designed so he can gaze down at the latest creation. My husband prides himself on the fact his expert hands have worked on every single boat that leaves Ouellette Yachts.

  I meet him as he jogs down the stairs to me. He takes the soft cooler from my shoulder as he leans in for a kiss before he asks, “Do you want to eat in the boathouse?”

  I find the name amusing since every building on the property probably contains a boat, and I smile as I say, “Lead the way.”

  He brings me to a small structure next door that was used as offices and a salesroom when his father ran the business. Now it’s where remnants of Ouellette Yachts’ history live, and I enjoy the quiet space. When we enter, Jean Luc flips on lights, and they flash off of the glass of framed photographs that line the walls. The pictures are of the company’s vast accomplishments, but my favorite part of this building is the tabletop models of every version of boat they ever built.

  I walk over to the plush couches that used to serve as a lobby area, and I sink into the comfortable cushions when I sit. I smile as Jean Luc joins me. My love for him is so great that all I want right now is to make him happy, so I decide to save my fears for another time and say, “Close your eyes and listen very carefully.”

  Jean Luc squints in confusion before he does as I ask. I watch his face as recognition dawns on him. When he opens his eyes I see his joy as he says, “Ma chère, three, no?”

  I nod, and he grabs my face to stare intently at me. “We are blessed.”

  I try to preten
d that what he speaks is the truth. “We are, Jean Luc.” I lean in and kiss my true mate. Threading my fingers though his fiery mane of hair, I hold on to the man who saved my life and drink him in like an elixir. I need everything to be okay, and Jean Luc makes me feel as if it’s possible.

  When we break apart he strokes my cheek. “You are afraid, Izzy. Why?”

  I sigh. “You know me too well.” I gaze at him and wonder how much I should say. I stick to my plan to let him be happy about this, but another fear surfaces, and I say, “I didn’t have a loving mother. What if I don’t know how to be one either?”

  “Ah.” Jean Luc takes my hand, and the calluses on his fingers are rough when he squeezes. “You know how to love me without trying. It will be the same with our children.”

  I think about how my relationship with my husband is easy. I smile and say, “I hope so.” I change the subject before I admit more. “Tally made cheese soup for us.” I reach for the cooler, and Velcro rips as I pull the top open. “Wait until you taste it. I swear it’s like dying and going to heaven.”

  “How was training today? Did you master shooting a bullet from your finger?”

  I roll my eyes at him. He likes to tease me about my magic, but not as much as he teases Tally. I say, “Careful, Tally hexed the soup, and if you’re not nice you’ll grow a wart on the end of your nose with a big whisker sticking out.”

  “You’re describing my grandmother.”

  His tone is serious, and I say, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I-- Wait. She was at our wedding.” I slap his arm. “You’re awful.”

  Jean Luc tugs me into his lap and nuzzles my neck. “No, ma chère, I’m good. Very, very good.” He kisses down my neck as he cups my breast.

  I pull away to lift my shirt over my head and let out a low growl. “This is why I like the boathouse.”

  Jean Luc lifts up his shirt too, and I take in the strong chest and arms he hones daily with his job. “Me too,” he says. I stand up to remove my pants, and he grabs my wrists. “Let me.” His hands are warm on my back as he pulls me between his legs and places his ear on my belly. “You are an amazing creature.”

  His hair is silky between my fingers as I comb through it, and my stomach quivers as he kisses it. My mate unzips my jeans slowly as if he’s revealing a treasure, and my breathing quickens in anticipation of his touch. Denim scrapes over my thighs as he drags my pants down and says, “You make me happy in so many ways, Isabelle. So many ways.” My insides heat up with desire as he removes my underwear too.

  He gazes up at me and thrusts two fingers inside of me to discover I’m wet with my need. I place my hands on his shoulders and tilt my head back as I begin to moan. Jean Luc grasps my bottom with a firm grip and asks, “How do you want it today?”

  My fear of what I might become hovers at the surface, and I crave my alpha’s control. Jean Luc saved me from drowning the day I tried to take my life and break my curse. I need him to be my savior again, so I say, “Dominate me, love. Make me know I’m yours.”

  Jean Luc doesn’t miss a beat. He knows sometimes I need this, so he flips the switch over to his alpha side and orders me. “On your knees and unzip me.”

  I scramble to obey, and when his jeans are open, he reaches in and grabs his cock. I lick my lips as I imagine his flavor. He strokes himself roughly, and a bead of moisture forms on the tip of his glorious erection. He asks, “Do you want to suck me off, Isabelle?”

  “Yes.”

  “Take off my jeans.” Jean Luc lifts his hips so I can remove his pants, and when I return to him he gathers my hair in a ponytail at the nape of my neck so he can twist it around his hand. “Do you want it, Isabelle?”

  I ask, “God yes. May I taste you now?”

  “Yes.”

  I open my mouth for him, and the skin of his shaft is smooth under my tongue when he lets me drag up his length before I take him in. I suck hard as he begins to pump his hips. My hair pulls at my scalp as he tightens his grasp on my ponytail, and he presses my head down so he can drive deeper. I’m helpless as he rams himself down my throat, and I struggle to time my breathing. But I want this, to be forced to do without thinking, and I revel in the way Jean Luc begins to groan in pleasure. He says, “Take it,” as his orgasm builds, and he growls low and deep as his essence shoots down my throat.

  I suck him dry and quiver as my orgasm hovers. His grip on my hair loosens as my mate recovers. He threads his hand through my locks as I lift up to gaze at him. A delirious smile covers his face, and he whispers, “Ma chère.” He crooks his finger at me as he snaps back into character.

  I lean forward, and he pinches my nipple hard. I flinch, and he reaches between my legs to shove two fingers inside of me. “So wet, but I don’t think you’re ready. Are you?”

  “No.”

  He removes his hand and growls. “Over the couch.”

  I walk over to the arm of the couch and bend so my butt is up in the air, revealing my sex. The worn leather cushion is buttery soft on my forearms. Jean Luc’s hand cracks as he makes contact with my bottom, and I let out a small cry before he spanks me again. He pauses to slide his finger along my folds, and I tremble as my orgasm climbs.

  “Not yet, Isabelle. You don’t come until I say so.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jean Luc continues to alternate spanking and stroking me until I’m quaking so hard I’m afraid I can’t hold myself back. I beg, “Jean Luc, please.”

  Strong fingers grip my hips as he thrusts into me, and I growl at the sensation of him filling me.

  He barks out, “Now you may come.”

  A roar tears through me as I shatter with the intensity of built-up sexual frustration and my fear. Jean Luc continues to pump in and out roughly until his release comes too. As he recovers he caresses my sore bottom and removes himself slowly. He leans down to place gentle kisses on my tender skin before he lifts me up. I turn to face my mate, and he palms my head with his hand as he gazes at me with love. My heart swells in response. Jean Luc kisses me with a light touch. He breaks away to move to my neck, and his breath tickles my skin as he says, “Now, we make love.”

  I sigh with my happiness as he begins to worship my body and remind me I am worthy, and Jean Luc makes me believe our true mate bond can weather the impending storm.

  7

  Tally

  I hum to myself as I inhale the wonderful mix of aromas that come from my herbs. The odd dried toad and mold spore add an underlying bitterness that conjures up my favorite memories of my grandmother. Our bloodline gift of magic skipped my mother and led me to become the medicine woman for the Ouellette clan sooner than usual. I was only twenty when I took over.

  Drawers scrape open as I search for the ingredients to make Izzy’s tea. While I have a great love for the werebear clan I help keep safe, I never expected a shape-shifter to become my best friend. Izzy is special. I was drawn to her right away, because she has powerful magic one doesn’t usually see in werebear. It’s amazing that before she came here, she didn’t know she was magical.

  The windows rattle with a gust of wind, and I gaze out to the snow that’s swirling around. It’s light, and I think the storm must be almost over. My friendship with Izzy started when I began to train her to use her abilities, and we quickly became attached to each other. I think we were brought together by destiny, because Izzy needs me. I sigh as my pestle scrapes on the mortar. I need to take care of her, because I won’t be getting the children I want any time soon.

  I’m in love with a man I can’t have. Marcel is a werebear, and some day he’ll find his true mate to leave me by the wayside. I fear I’m destined to be alone. I sniff as I force myself not to cry, because the salty moisture of sadness should not be a part of Izzy’s tea. She needs sunshine and love.

  I frown as I recall our time together this morning. While I get polar werebear like the cold, watching Izzy walk across a snow-covered lawn without a stitch of clothing made me wonder what was going on. Her expression was so --
tortured. And her reaction to finding out she’s pregnant was to turn so pale I was sure she’d pass out. At the time I thought it was low blood sugar, but now I know it’s more.

  My hand lands on my stomach as if I can rub away my queasiness. She’s afraid her family curse is back. Now that I know about it, I’m worried sick for her. While sealing her true mate bond with Jean Luc should have broken it, she’s afraid her mood swings, which are normal for a pregnant werebear, are an indicator it’s back. I’ve never seen Izzy lose her temper or get depressed, and I find it hard to believe she ever did. I shudder as I think about what it must feel like to think you’re going crazy.

  Wooden bowls clunk as I push them around in search of my passionflower. I think an extra pinch of something designed to reduce anxiety might help ease Izzy’s mind. Oh goodness, should I... One of my gifts is I can read people’s minds, but I only use it when necessary. I’ve got an iron shield in place to keep me from learning things I’d rather not know. But in this case maybe I should lower it to see if she really is going insane.

  I shake my head. I won’t dig into my friend’s thoughts. Besides, Izzy has the same gift I do, and I know she doesn’t do a good job of keeping it in check. I’m not sure she even realizes it either. She’d be able to tell in an instant if I was probing her mind for answers. No. It’s best to be up front with my best friend, the way she is with me.

  The pulverized leaves of my concoction rustle as I pour them into a tin. I have an appointment with a special werebear in a half hour. Marcel comes to see me once a week for a tarot card reading in the hope I can help him find his true mate. My stomach flutters at the thought of seeing him. I stop my fantasy from going further and focus on Izzy. I think once I’m done with Marcel I’ll drop by Izzy’s house to give her the tea and to hear about how excited Jean Luc was when she gave him the news of her pregnancy. I smile as I imagine his face lit up with joy. The alpha of the Ouellette clan has waited a long time for his successor.