Big Strong Bear (2 page)

Each second, each minute he considered it seemed to kill her.

It reminded her of those months when she’d stood on his porch, waiting for him to open the door. Heart full of foolish hope that everything could go back to the way it was. That all his promises of being together when he was done could really be fulfilled. Even though she knew he was successful, a hero, strong, and she was just that little baker from a small town in the middle of nowhere.

He never came to the door, and she’d grown colder each time she was forced to walk away unanswered.

But that wasn’t the last straw. Not even close.

Her jaw tightened at the memory of it. At least until then, she’d been able to tell herself he just wanted to be alone, that he was still recovering and probably nervous about seeing anyone. Maybe waiting for the scars to heal.

But no, that wasn’t the case. She’d pulled up and been about to park when she saw a beautiful, tall woman walk right in the front door. And that woman’s car had stayed there for weeks.

Damn it all. The memory was so painful that she got to her feet, ready to leave. This was a mistake. What was she thinking coming here anyway? He didn’t care about her anymore. He’d made that clear when he locked her out and let in another woman instead.

Although, after that woman had left, he showed up at her bakery, bold as brass, expecting her to crawl back like nothing happened.

Like she hadn’t cried over him for weeks. Like she hadn’t deserved so much more. So she’d rightfully told him she wanted nothing to do with him, as much as it felt like it cracked her in half to do so.

And the cold, expectant look he’d given her after that just confirmed what she already knew. He didn’t care about her anymore.

Just like he was calm now, even after learning she was in danger.

Her heart cracked at the thought of it, and she rushed for the door. She’d find another answer. Go to the police or something. Stay with a friend. This had all been stupid…

She was only halfway across the tile when a hard, steely hand gently caught her arm, stopping her. She looked up into gray eyes, smoldering in the semi-darkness.

“Where are you going?” he asked in a low voice that made tendrils of lust curl around her belly. She’d always loved that voice.

“Home,” she said. “It was stupid to come here. I don’t know what I was—”

To her surprise, he jerked her forward and caught her in his arms, crushing her against him. His lips came down on hers, and his tongue tasted faintly of smoke as it explored. His scent was of forest, of wilderness, of gunfire and frost. And home.

Her body melted against his even as she struggled to fight her own response to him. His tongue swept through her mouth, heating her blood to boiling with the memory of everything they’d shared.

He pulled back and pinned her with cold heat in his glare. “You’re mine,” he said, running his tongue along his full lower lip. “You came back to me, and you’re mine.”

Her jaw dropped. “No,” she said, pushing away. “No, I’m not yours. I just… This was a bad idea.” She made for the door again, but he strode in front of it, easily blocking her.

He folded his arms again, and the effect it had on his hulking shoulders and biceps made it hard to breathe, like the air in the room was thickening.

“Let me go,” she said, trying to go around him.

He shook his head.

She let out an exasperated sigh. “This doesn’t change anything. I didn’t come back here because I wanted to be with you. I just thought someone with your… skills would be useful.”

He clicked his tongue and tilted his head, dark hair swaying. “Oh, definitely useful.”

“But I should have known this would be awkward, and this was a mistake… I’ll ask someone else.”

That put darkness in his expression, and Cassie froze as she saw his features tighten. “Who?” he asked, taking a step forward. “Who would you ask, Cassie? One of your pretty town boys?”

She scoffed at the ridiculousness of it. She’d never turned him down for anyone else, though heaven knew there were men interested. John had always been the only one for her. And only him taking what they had so lightly, acting like it meant nothing, was able to make her move on.

“What happened, Cass?” he asked, using her old pet name, making her knees tremble. It was all too familiar, reminiscent of better times, romantic times. Times they’d been in love and sure the world couldn’t stop them.

But the world had.

“I don’t know,” she answered sadly. “Life happened.”

He slammed his hand into the door, anger overtaking him. “That’s not good enough,” he said. “It’s not good enough for either of us and we both know it. But fine. We aren’t getting back together. I accepted that, and I know you have.”

She nodded silently, tension gripping her.

“But I’ll be damned if I let anyone else protect you,” he said hoarsely. “That’s my job, always was.”

She nodded again, stunned by the force of sentiment in his words.

He took a step forward and then another. She could sense the history of their kiss lingering in the air, tempting her toward more. He closed the distance between them, thrilling her with that combination of cool danger and ardent passion that made her weak in the knees. He reached for her chin and tilted it up so she was forced to look into his eyes.

“But you look out, Cassie Peterson. Because I still want you. I accepted your decision, but I haven’t given up. I may be trapped in hell, but you’ve just come down to find me. And I’m not letting you go without a fight.”

She swallowed, frozen by his gaze, his possessive words. She could almost buy into it. Almost think everything could go back to how it was. Then the image of the other woman crossed her mind, and she slapped his hand away and stepped back. “Don’t touch me.”

He smirked and cocked his head to one side. “But you like it.”

“Be that as it may,” she said shakily, “don’t do this to me. Not again. I’m not going to fall in love with you again.” She’d never fallen out of love with him. That was why it all still hurt so much. But that was a minor technicality.

He raised a dark eyebrow, looking cool as ice. “I don’t know,” he said. “I guess we’ll see.” He leaned in, mocking her with a cold smile. “It can get awfully hot in hell sometimes.”

Then he laughed, an icy, dark sound that echoed as he opened the door and walked out to her car, his tall shape evident even in the darkness.

H
ades settled
Cassie in the master bedroom, enjoying her confused look before he left her there alone, telling her they would talk in the morning. He couldn’t go over the specifics of her problem yet. He needed time to cool off.

He had no problem taking the couch. He’d slept on the ground enough times, in harsh climates or even in planes.

No, the place he slept would have no effect on his ability to rest.

The fact that there was a curvy little woman just a few rooms over that had an almost witch-like spell on him?
That
could definitely lead to a sleepless night.

He’d told her they’d handle details the next day. For now, he just needed to adjust to the idea that she’d come back to him. She’d come to him for help. That had to mean something. She trusted him.

Perhaps it was a sign from the universe that they could take another go.

Despite knowing she deserved better than him, he couldn’t help the fighter in him sitting up and saying this was his chance. She couldn’t run from him this time.

She couldn’t run from what they’d been, what they’d meant to each other. He’d felt it in their kiss. Nothing had truly changed—not anything that mattered anyway.

And maybe at the end of this, when he’d gotten rid of whatever or whoever was threatening her, she’d walk out of his life again, still not wanting someone with his scars, inside or out.

Maybe.

But maybe in the time they’d be spending together, something could change.

He didn’t know. He only knew seeing her rushing to leave, heading for the door, his heart made a desperate bid to keep her.

Just being in the room with her. Looking in her eyes. It was just so clear she meant everything to him.

Why hadn’t he just opened the door the first time she came to visit? Would that have made a difference? Maybe if she hadn’t already been angry that he was pushing her away, she could have handled the scars.

She certainly liked to stare at them. Did she like to torture herself over how ruined he was? See what a mess he’d made of his once beautiful face? Well, she’d called it beautiful. Now she looked at him with terror. And something else. Yes, deep in her eyes, he could see she still wanted him. Despite herself, in spite of her reservations.

Yes, she looked at him like he was a monster.

But he was a monster who was on her side and always would be.

Damn, he wanted to kiss her again. As he lay back on the couch, feet splayed over the side, he itched to stand up and go to her. To walk down the hall, open the bedroom door, and go home to her. To hold her in the ways he’d dreamed when he was deployed and on duty. Her lips, her hair, everything about her had haunted his dreams.

It was a physical ache inside him to have her so close yet be unable to touch her.

He longed to make her sigh his name, to have her soft hands curl in his hair and yank as he wrung every last drop of pleasure out of her.

To make love to her just one more time.

But he touched his face. Felt the lines, the scars. No, she didn’t want this, not anymore. She’d made it clear. He tried to remind himself of this. But he couldn’t ignore the lust that had glittered in her resentful eyes. The proud way she’d stared into them after they’d kissed, even as her pulse leapt from his effect on her.

Perhaps he just needed to remind her of what they had. And even if some things were different, some were the same. Like the way he could make her feel—affected, stunned. The way her body yielded to him instantly. The way she trusted him as protector. The way he could still make her weak in the knees.

The way she made it impossible to think.

True, he found it easier to calm down after years of training in intense situations. But inside, despite his composed demeanor, his heart had been pounding the entire time she was with him. Only now was it slowly relaxing. And at the thought of getting up in the morning, seeing her again, it sped up, thumping against his chest painfully.

He rubbed a hand over it, thinking of her. Of happier times, smiling in the sunlight. And sadder times, like when she’d shouted at him, telling him it was over and she didn’t want to see him again.

It had been a shock even as it was expected. Expected because he knew he’d lost pieces of himself that she loved, but a shock because some part of him had hoped Cassie could overcome the impossible and still love him as he was.

He pulled a small blanket over him, laughing softly at how little it covered. He clapped a hand and the light went off, leaving him in darkness.

Not that it mattered.

He didn’t plan to sleep tonight.

C
assie woke confused
, unsure where she was for a moment. Then she saw the sparse, masculine furnishings. The dark drapes, the gray carpet. The space was nice but dark, elegant but a little unnerving.

Sort of like someone she knew.

She got out of bed and changed into new clothes. She yawned and stretched, not ready to go out and face Hades.

Despite the drama between them, she had to admit she’d slept better in his home than she had in a long time. No matter what happened between them, there was no safer place for her than by his side.

Which just made everything that had happened that much more sucky.

There was a bathroom attached to the bedroom, so she walked to it with her cosmetic bag to see if there was anything she could do before seeing him.

She ran a hand through her curls, pushing them into place, though they still sprung back wildly. She wet a hand and tamed them somewhat, tucking the most errant ones behind her ear.

John had never minded her curls being everywhere. He’d loved to absentmindedly curl them around his fingers when they were cuddling and watching a movie or lying in bed after being together.

They’d shared some good times when he was home on leave. There were no spoken promises, not since they were younger, but she’d just always assumed what they’d done was under the same auspices.

But when he’d wanted nothing to do with her once he was actually free to commit, that said it all.

Even if he’d wanted to get some shortly after that.

She washed her face and dried it off with a gray towel. So much gray in his life.

She was swiping on some pink-tinted ChapStick and pinching her cheeks to look less pale when someone knocked on the bedroom door.

She sighed and stayed silent, waiting to see what he did next.

“Cassie, you up? We need to talk.”

Of course they did. She sighed at the bags under her eyes and shrugged because there was nothing she could do about them.

Then again, she didn’t know why she was even going to all of this trouble with John. Hades. Whoever he was. There was nothing between them anymore, and even when they’d been together, he never minded any of her flaws.

She walked to the door and opened it to find a hard abdomen and chest in front of her. She followed it up to a strong neck and that devastatingly handsome, scarred face.

Smoky eyes twinkled at her. “You pinched your cheeks, didn’t you?”

She scoffed and turned away, but he caught her arm, pulling her back. He had a nasty habit of doing that, of not letting someone run when they wanted to.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I’m flattered,” he said, smirking.

She yanked away and started to pick up her things, packing them into her backpack. “Don’t be,” she said. “It’s just a habit.”

Was it, though? She shook her head as she zipped up her bag.

“I’m sorry I sent you to bed last night before getting more details,” he said, walking in and taking a seat in the chair across from the bed. His huge body had a way of making every chair look too small. “I needed some time to adjust.” He gestured between them. “You know, to this.”

She wrapped her arms around herself and looked at the window, covered by drapes. “I know. It’s weird.”

He put his hands behind his head. The cool half grin he wore was a dark parody of the easy smile he’d had before. Yes, a lot had happened to him.

Maybe she’d been stupid for assuming she could even understand him after all of that.

Probably that woman who’d visited him could understand. She was tall, fit, and had been wearing an army uniform on occasion.

Not that Cassie ever drove by, stalking them, seeing what was going on.

Um…

“So someone’s after you?” he asked.

She looked him in the eyes. Suddenly, her problems seemed so stupid compared to what he’d been through. And if she were honest, it was a little embarrassing. “I think I need breakfast before I talk about it,” she said.

He nodded, slight confusion in his eyes. But he stood and led the way to the kitchen. She tried not to focus on the broad muscles of his back, his tight waist, those jeans slung low on his hips, just above the most perfect ass…

“You’re looking at my ass, aren’t you?” he asked, amusement in his voice.

It sounded so like the man she’d known, her heart started throbbing in response. “Yes,” she said quietly. “It’s obviously still nice.”

“Unlike the rest of me,” he murmured.

“What?” she asked. “That’s the second time you’ve said something about that. You do know the scars just make you that much hotter.”

He laughed, a harsh sound that resonated through her. “Yeah, sure. And pigs fly.”

“When they have wings, maybe,” she said. “But I really don’t get what you mean about your scars.”

He shrugged. “You need breakfast to talk about what’s going on with your stalker. I need about a bottle of vodka before I talk about my scars.”

She winced. Was he more affected by them than she’d been able to guess?

Maybe. But that didn’t make everything okay.

He gestured for her to sit at the counter and began to rummage in the fridge. Then he pulled out some things and turned on the burner.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Making your breakfast.” Then he seemed to realize it was an odd thing to do, even if had been their habit in the past. After a night of making love. But that wasn’t the situation they were in now.

He had a pan in his hand and slowly lowered it to the stove, deep in thought.

It was too awkward for her to stand it, so she shook her head. “Just cereal would be good. With milk if you have it.”

He nodded mutely, getting everything out and handing it to her while putting away the other ingredients. He’d been about to make French toast, her favorite.

But they weren’t really in a French toast position anymore.

He waited for her to finish her cereal patiently, checking his phone occasionally and relaxing on his couch in silence. He was comfortable with silence, much more than she was. Probably from all of those missions.

She wanted to ask him about everything that had happened since the last time they’d had a real conversation.

She especially wanted to ask him about the incident that had left him with those scars on his face.

But again, they weren’t in that position. He’d made sure of that. And despite his assurances that he still wanted her, Cassie wasn’t going to fall for it again.

He’d nearly torn her apart last time he changed his mind about her, and she knew she’d never survive it if he did it again.

“All right,” he said, when she’d finished her cereal and he’d put everything away and stacked the dishes in the sink for later. “Time to talk.”

He took her by the hand and led her to the living room, seating her on the couch while he took his usual chair.

There was something so intimate about the way he touched her, the way he took control. Maybe she never should have come back here. But it was her only choice.

He watched her with those penetrating eyes while she tried to come up with words that would make her sound like less of a fool for getting in this situation in the first place.

“I, um… I’m in trouble with loan sharks.”

An eyebrow quirked and genuine surprise lit his usually unreadable face. Perhaps that was the last thing he’d expected. “Loan sharks? For what?”

She wrung her hands and looked at the carpet. It was more comfortable. “I guess you knew my dad had cancer. We talked about it. Anyway, he hit a limit on his insurance, and I had no way to pay for the chemo.”

“Cassie,” he said in a hard voice. “You could have asked me.”

She waved a hand. “No, I couldn’t. It was mine to deal with.”

“
You
were mine to deal with,” he said.

“I thought I could handle it on my own. It wasn’t a large loan, and I expected I could make up the difference now that I owned the bakery. But tourist season was low and…”

“And the interest piled up faster than you thought,” he murmured, face impassive once again.

Shame burned through her. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t think he was a loan shark. I thought he was just a passing tourist. A friend.”

Hades’s face tightened. “A friend?”

She put her hands up. “He never made a move, honest. I was true to you. When you wanted me, at least.”

“When I wanted you?” He scoffed. “I never sto—”

“Let’s not do this now. I just can’t,” she said. If he wasn’t going to bring up the woman who’d been with him, if he wasn’t willing to be honest, then there was nothing that could be done. No matter how much history was between them. No matter how much she was attracted to him.

“Fine,” he said. “How much do you owe them?”

She murmured the number, almost hoping he couldn’t hear it.

He was silent for a moment, and her heart pounded loudly in the silence.

“The best thing would be to pay it off,” he said.

“I’ve tried. No matter what I do, it’s never enough. I tried to pay it off early on, but it’s always changing.”

“Thus, loan shark,” Hades murmured. “I really wish you hadn’t done that.”

She nodded. “Me too. But it seemed an easy fix at the time. The problem is I don’t think he really wants the loan paid at all. I think he wants… me.”

Hades’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Each time I’ve tried to pay, unsuccessfully, he’s suggested me paying the loan with… well… with…”

Fire lit in Hades eyes and he stood abruptly, rising to his full, scarily tall height. He gave her a brief, flashing look and then strode to the front entryway to pace back and forth over the gray tile.