Eventide of the Bear Page 6

  Yeah, she was looking at him as if he’d stolen her breakfast bunny. He decided against attempting to be sociable—the politeness skill sure as hell had never been in his toolbox anyway.

  Instead, he tipped his head and backed out of the room.

  BEN NOTICED RYDER leaving Emma’s room. Had she called for help? “Problems?”

  “Nah. Minette popped in there, but had already left before I could retrieve her.”

  Ben considered him, surprised Emma hadn’t tried to keep Ryder in there to talk. She’d been increasingly bored. “She okay?”

  Ryder gave him a puzzled look. “I suppose.” He noticed Minette peeking out of her room. “Kitten, let’s go downstairs and see what’s in your bag.”

  Ben walked into Emma’s bedroom and stopped.

  Sitting on the bed with her back to him, Emma was trying to pull on a pair of jeans Angie had provided. Before he could stop her, the harsh material scraped over her wound. The pain-filled sound she made twisted his gut.

  “What the hell?” He strode across the room and sat on the bed beside her. “Emma, what are you doing?”

  She ignored him and managed to get the jeans to her knees. Carefully, she rose from the bed, balanced on one leg, and pulled the waist up and over her round ass.

  “What happened? Was Ryder rude?” Difficult to imagine. His taciturn brother might not sweet-talk a female, but he’d never been rude to one.

  “No. He didn’t say anything.”

  Then what the fuck?

  “Sit down and talk to me, li’l female.” He curled his fingers in the waistband and tugged her back onto the bed.

  The tears in her eyes defeated the effectiveness of her frustrated glare. “I know you have more people here now. They’ll need this room, so I’ll be out of your fur in a few minutes.”

  “Not going to happen. You’re not healed up enough to leave.”

  “I am. Now let go of me!” She tried to make him release her jeans and failed. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and a sob escaped her. “You stupid male!”

  He saw the moment she lost her hold on her control, but rather than changing to a bear and doing some real damage, she merely thumped his shoulder with her tiny fists. Even when furious, she wouldn’t hurt him.

  A snowdrift of pity piled up within him. This was about more than the housing accommodations, wasn’t it?

  He lifted her up and yanked her jeans down. Her blows landed on his back like the slight sting of hail. As carefully as he could, he slid her pants off her legs. By the God, she’d torn the fragile tissue covering the hellhound bite. Blood trickled down her leg.

  “Fuck, darlin’.” He grabbed gauze pads the healer had left on the nightstand.

  As he bandaged her wound, she abandoned the struggle. Tears seeped from beneath her closed lids to run down her cheeks.

  Fuming, he took a seat beside her. Didn’t she know what would happen to her out there, injured and helpless?

  He sighed. Of course she did. She’d been nearly dead when they found her. And she still hadn’t told him why she’d been living in the forest. He’d let her evade his questions, figuring it was Calum’s job to quiz her, but if this continued, he’d pin her down and not let her up until she answered, no matter how much she cried. Or how badly he’d feel.

  Probably much like he felt right now.

  Normally, words came fairly easy to him, although often enough, he’d speak without thinking and make a hash of it. He didn’t want to fuck up now. Dammit.

  Stroking his thumb over her soft cheek, he calmed his anger so he could talk without growling. “I don’t think the Mother approves of shifters throwing away her gift of life.”

  “I’ve already destroyed lives,” she whispered, eyes still closed.

  He frowned. She wasn’t very old. Mid-twenties, maybe. At the most. Perhaps a couple of males had asked her to lifemate, and she’d broken their hearts with her refusal? “I doubt you’ve done anything that awful, li’l bear.”

  “Ben.” When she looked at him, her beautiful golden-brown eyes held more misery than anyone should endure. “I don’t deserve to live among the clan. Let me go.”

  “No. You wouldn’t live a week, even in bear form.” Taking her unbandaged hand, he saw purpling bruises on her knuckles. She must have given him some pretty determined thumps.

  Noticing, she turned white. “I’m sorry.” She pulled in a shuddering breath. “I can’t do anything right. Let me leave. Please.”

  “Sweetie, that’s not going to happen.”

  Her face crumpled, and her lower lip trembled. By the God, she was breaking his heart. Few Daonain survived clanless, so why did she want to retreat back into the wilderness?

  She didn’t. He’d seen her light up when he walked in her room or when Angie and the healer visited. This pretty bear loved company, even though her awkwardness spoke of an unknowable amount of time alone.

  “I don’t deserve to live among the clan.” Sounded like guilt. Mistakes in the past.

  How could he get her off this trail? If ever there was a blundering bear when it came to talking through emotions, that would be him. Perhaps, so was she. Start there. “I don’t know why you feel so guilty, but we’ll talk about it later.”

  From the way her lips closed together, he could see that discussion would happen right about…never. Where the fuck was Calum when he needed him?

  “But, darlin’, we’re bears,” he said. “We don’t hurt others because we want to play with our prey like cats. We’re not wolves to be pushed into idiocy by the pack. We stumble into stuff because sometimes we’re just clumsy. Yeah?”

  Her eyes were still filled with tears, but she nodded.

  There. He had a scent to follow, to lead her up and out of this fucking chasm. “Can’t go through life without screwing up. The Mother didn’t make us perfect. All a bear can do after busting something is to try to make amends, much as he can. Even if you can’t fix the damage”—like broken hearts—“you move on, living best as possible.”

  She dropped her gaze, staring at where his big hand engulfed hers.

  THE GIGANTIC BEAR had gigantic hands. His fingers were callused to the roughness of tree bark yet, despite their strength, held hers gently. The muscles on his forearms were thick, even his wrist bones were huge. He made her feel…little.

  Cared for.

  He’d stopped talking, letting her turn his words over the way she’d turn over logs to see what rewards were beneath. Was he right?

  He said everyone screwed up. Truth.

  Bears blundered. Everyone knew that. And she hadn’t deliberately hurt anyone. She’d never had the heart to be cruel. Truth.

  “I don’t think the Mother approves of shifters throwing away her gift of life.” She flinched internally at his accuracy. She wouldn’t deliberately harm herself, but trying to survive when each movement still hurt and her bones weren’t melded together would achieve nearly the same thing.

  She hadn’t been thinking, just reacting.

  With each trawsfur, the Mother’s love would fill her, letting her know she was cherished. To be careless with this gift of life would be wrong. Hurtful to the Goddess. I’m sorry, Mother of All.

  Ben said to make amends. If only she could. Gladly, she would have made apologies and stayed, and tried to be daughter to the grieving families, but the Cosantir had banished her. To return now would…would accomplish nothing except resurrect the pain of the bereaved.

  Perhaps, she could give of herself here, instead?

  As for the rest of Ben’s advice: …you move on, living best as possible. What if people found out what she’d done? “They won’t want me here,” she whispered to herself. “I…”

  A snort reminded her someone else was in the room—a pissed-off bear. She looked up.

  At the campground, he’d calmly shifted to a grizzly—the most terrifying of animals. Now, in the same way, his easygoing expression had transformed to unyielding strength.

  “You gonna let others di
ctate what you do with your life?” His Texas drawl had thickened with his annoyance.

  “I—”

  “Are these others your mates? Your Cosantir?”

  He obviously thought she’d meant someone specific, not an entire town. But she shook her head.

  “A bear doesn’t answer to anyone else. We’re not wolves who need someone handing us orders.” He paused before prompting, “Yeah?”

  He had no understanding of the reaction of his clan, and yet… Again, he had a point. She was being a coward, running rather than sticking it out. Could she manage to show this territory she had something to offer?

  “You’re stuck here for a while, li’l bear. Don’t worry about the bedroom situation. We got it covered,” Ben said. “But while you’re here, you can work this—whatever it is—out and move past it.” He aimed an uncompromising look at her.

  As she nodded, a different kind of guilt washed over her. She’d caused trouble, had hit him, had taken his time. What a sad repayment of his generosity. “I’m sorry, Ben,” she said softly. “I won’t try to run again, at least not until I can do it on four legs.”

  His face softened. “That’s a good bear.”

  A good bear. The same words master bard had used.

  When she smiled at the memory, the look in Ben’s eyes changed to…to something she didn’t quite recognize. And then she did. It was a male’s lazy appreciation of a female.

  He ran his knuckles down her cheek.

  With his controlled caress and his heated gaze, she was suddenly far too aware of her unclothed state. Of the way the sheet curved over her breasts. Of his strength when he had yanked her back onto the bed despite her pounding fists. Of the warmth of his fingers on her face and the stern line of his jaw.

  His head tilted, and in a very deliberate move, he pressed a kiss to her wrist. His firm lips were warm.

  She shivered.

  A crease appeared in his cheek with his slow smile. “Since the healer said you can escape this room tomorrow, I’ll fetch you for breakfast in the morning.

  As he left the room, she sniffed her wrist, knowing what he must have scented—the fragrance of a female’s interest.

  Oh, this was bad. Very bad.

  *

  DOWNSTAIRS IN THE great room, Ryder sat on the upholstered chair and dug through Minette’s bag. “Here, kitten. Do you want to play with these?” He scattered several blocks in front of her.

  Ben would come down soon. That would be the time to raise the possibility the guest was healthier than she was letting on.

  Of course, he could be wrong.

  But, by the God, if all she wanted was Ben’s status and money, she’d better rethink. Ryder knew too well the pain of being used, and he wouldn’t let Ben be hurt.

  On the dark red area rug, Minette set her favorite stuffed cat to one side and picked up the sanded chunks of wood…with one hand. Her thumb was in her mouth.

  His heart ached. She’d made progress over the past week, had almost stopped flinching with his every movement, and started to play, even if quietly. But being faced with new people and places set her back. Poor little cub.

  Damn Genevieve for not sending him word about Minette. Damn him for avoiding the Deschutes Territory. For not finding his daughter sooner. For not having a stable family to bring her into.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered.

  “You talking to me?” Ben said from the door.

  Ryder jumped. “Fucking grizzly. How do you walk without making any noise?”

  “Talent. Training.” Ben dropped onto the L-shaped sectional with a sigh.

  “Problems?”

  “I’d told Emma I only had two bedrooms, so she was worried about occupying one with y’all here. She tried to leave, even though she can barely stand.”

  Did Ben believe her? One of Genevieve’s most effective tricks was to dissolve into tears and look helpless. “She cried? And, being too weak to walk, she waited for you…so you could tell her not to leave, right?”

  “Not exactly. You’ve turned cynical, cat.” Ben showed his bloodstained hands. “She was so determined to get dressed, she tore open her wound.”

  Oh. Fuck. The scent was definitely hers. She had a wound, not an illness. Why had he assumed she was pretending to be sick? Why hadn’t he asked?

  Because Genevieve had taken him in whenever she played the ill card.

  He snorted in self-disgust. “I got caught up in chasing my own tail. Sorry. What injury does she have?”

  Ben hesitated. “Got her leg busted and sliced up in the mountains. But, ah…she was alone and didn’t get found for a couple of weeks. The healer repaired what he could, but full healing will take longer.”

  Ben went into the kitchen. The faucet came on as he washed his hands.

  A female? Hurt and alone? And she hadn’t seen a healer for two weeks? He imagined the pretty female upstairs. Trying to get dressed. Hurting herself. And he’d been pretty fucking cold to her. Fuck, Griz should smack him upside the head.

  Ben returned with two glasses of iced tea and set one in front of Ryder. He smiled at Minette’s construction of a balanced Roman arch-type bridge. “You got a budding mechanical engineer there.”

  “She reminds me of you with her constant building projects. But she seems to be more into design than construction.”

  “How about you?” Ben’s gaze stayed on the cub. “What have you been doing all these years?”

  “I…” The question slashed claws across his heart. Littermates stayed together. The bond between brothers reached deep into their souls. One shouldn’t have to ask the other about jobs and mates.

  But life was what it was.

  Thorny undergrowth or not, the direct route was often the best trail to take back home. He’d simply lay out the intervening years. “When Genevieve and I lived together, I started selling my woodworking at craft fairs and festivals. After we split, I moved to the Garibaldi Territory in Canada. Worked winters, did the fair circuit during the summers.”

  “Do you need to go get your tools?”

  Ryder hesitated before baring his hopes. “I wanted to mend things between us. Emptied my shop and was already on my way here when I heard about Minette. I left the trailer in Bellingham, so I didn’t look…presumptuous.”

  Ben actually grinned. “Presumptuous.”

  “Yeah, well, if you have a place for my stuff, Minette and I’ll go get the trailer tomorrow.”

  “Got a building out back. It’d be perfect for you.” Ben smiled slowly. “I might have known you’d not give up your wood. Bet you do well.”

  Ryder’s shoulders eased. “Aye. In between the craft fair tidbits, I make custom furniture, which pays really well. Heather, a wolf in Rainier Territory, taught me to invest the profits in the stock market. I’ve got money, bro.”

  “Yeah? You’ve always been canny with finances.”

  “I don’t lack for dollars.” The next words emerged with more difficulty. “It’s family I’m short on.”

  For an eternity, his brother didn’t speak. Finally came the acknowledgment and agreement. “Yeah.”

  Maybe the way home would be filled with obstacles, but they’d found the right trail.

  Chapter Eight

  ‡

  THE NEXT EVENING, Emma stood at the top of the stairs and tried to calculate how to get down. She was allowed only partial weight bearing on her injured leg, the healer had said. A cane would be useful, but she didn’t have one.

  And, by the Goddess, she wouldn’t let Ben continue carrying her to the kitchen, as he had for both breakfast and lunch. She’d get herself to supper. The scent of fried chicken drifting up the stairs was a lovely incentive.

  Putting both hands on the railing, she jumped down one step. It jarred her leg but worked. She set her teeth and moved her hands lower on the railing.

  “If you jump down one more step, I’ll paddle your ass and tell the healer.” Ben’s growl carried clearly from the dining room.
<
br />   Emma stiffened.

  He stalked up the stairs, glowering fiercely enough she’d have retreated if both her legs had been working.

  “Ben, I need to—”

  “You need to obey the healer’s orders, li’l female, or you’ll get yourself in a peck of trouble.” The rumble of his rough voice was oddly soothing. Effortlessly, he scooped her up, his strength reassuring. His massive size was always surprising, like viewing a mountain after being raised in the foothills.

  He carried her into the center of the house, through the dining area where an old-fashioned brass chandelier hung over the gleaming oak dining table, under the wide archway into the kitchen. The wood flooring and trim work in the modernized Victorian was a beautiful russet color. Off-white kitchen cupboards hung over cream-colored granite countertops. Golden, hand-painted wall tiles brightened the backsplash behind the sink and oven. Despite being enormous, the kitchen was cheerful and comfortable.

  Of course, bears were known for making their dens comfortable.

  Ben seated her on a stool at the square center island and arranged her injured leg on another leather-topped stool. “Now, say thank you and stay put.” He gripped her shoulder firmly and waited for her answer.

  “Thank you, Ben,” she said obediently.

  “Much better.”

  When his dark blue eyes crinkled at the corners with his easy smile, the stool somehow disappeared from under her, leaving her floating in the air.

  With a satisfied glint in his eyes, he patted her.

  Taking a calming breath, she looked around.

  Ben’s littermate stood at the counter, mashing potatoes with an unreadable expression. If he was less gorgeous, she’d be more comfortable. Even worse, his darkly menacing attitude reminded her of Andre.

  On the other side of the island, the little girl she’d seen the previous night was staring at her. Emma winked and saw the child’s eyes widen.

  The male and his cub had been gone for breakfast and lunch, and she’d been disappointed at the child’s absence. During her apprenticeship as a bard, she’d instructed cubs in the clan, teaching stories and songs. Children were the most beautiful gift of the Mother.