Called by the Bear 4-6

C
opyright
© 2015 by V. Vaughn

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Editing by Jodi Henley and Red Adept Publishing

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I
’m Lily Wilson
, and my dreams called me to Maine. Leaving behind a dead-end life, I thought settling in with the Le Roux family was what I was meant to do. But meeting Victor changed everything, and now I can’t imagine surviving without him.

I
, Sierra Steele never expected sexual pleasure to become my nightmare. My body is revealing in my new predicament, while my mind is screaming at the invasion. But protecting Carly is my purpose, and I’ll do what’s necessary. As long as I stay sane…

L
ily

I
'm not entirely
a good girl. I slept with my high school boyfriend, tried a few different drugs, and didn't get straight As. But I'm happiest when I live by a strong code of right and wrong. At the moment, I'm struggling with that, because I'm not so sure I made the correct decision in driving from Colorado to Maine to start a new life at Bear Mountain Tree Farm.

The right thing to do is to tell Carly, Brady, and Donna that I don't think the guy in my dreams and I are meant to be together. Sure, there's a sexual attraction with Ian, but the idea of having his children doesn't make me happy. I figure I will know when I meet “the one,” and he’s not it.

The only child of an alcoholic, I’m the reason my family motel business survived. But babysitting my mother was not what I wanted to do with my life. When I started dreaming about a paw-print tattoo and a hot guy, I began to make plans for a different future.

The night Carly and Sierra checked in and I saw the tattoo from my visions on Carly’s wrist, I knew my dreams meant more. Except now that I’m here, I think I might have made a mistake.

The wrong thing to do is to sponge off the Le Roux because I have nowhere else to go, but that's exactly what I'm doing. I blow a strand of my hair out of my eyes as I place my foot on the bumper of the company truck. Boxes are heavy on my thigh as I rest them there to free a hand.

In an effort to make myself useful and relieve my guilt, I introduced the idea of getting local restaurants to use the company's maple syrup. My new job as a sales rep for the Bear Mountain Tree Farm should keep me busy. I’ll drive around to various gift shops and check in on current clients to update them on our latest offerings. This morning I have a meeting at a place called the Cat's Meow. At this café with a French flair, they already use real maple syrup, and I think this will be an easy sale when they see the prices we're offering.

After days of rain, I welcome the warm sun that has heated up the cab of the truck. The faint smell of cigarettes and pine makes me think of forest fires, and I open the windows to air things out. The engine sputters to life, and I make my way toward town.

I haven't left Le Roux land since I got here last week, so I take my time observing the area I can view from the road. Small houses are randomly placed on either side, and while most are white, a few appear in sherbet pastels. Some have big, shiny balls set on pedestals or fake cats or butterflies attached to the siding, and one even has a statue of the Virgin Mary, as if the yard is a place of worship.

I eventually pull into the parking lot of the cafe. It's still a couple of hours from lunchtime, but the moment the aroma of baked goods hits my nose, I'm hungry. A pastry display case is lit up next to the hostess stand, and I decide I'll need a few croissants to bring back for Annie and me to snack on.

I tell the hostess I have a meeting with Francois and she has me sit until he's available. She offers me a coffee, but I decline. I'm nervous enough and don't need the caffeine.

I take in the surroundings while I wait. Tables covered with white linens sit on black-and-white–tiled flooring. Black wrought-iron chairs topped with plush red cushions add a splash of color that's also accented by the decorations and the red, swinging kitchen doors.

As I scan the restaurant, my eyes can't help but linger on a very attractive man. His jet-black hair practically shimmers against a crisp white shirt open at the collar and with sleeves rolled to the elbows, showing off his muscular arms. Because he's distracted by a laptop, I take my time checking him out, and when he frowns, my fingers long to smooth out the wrinkle on his forehead.

He glances up, and I quickly drop my gaze as I tear myself away from my fantasies. I should be morphing into an extroverted sales rep instead of wanting to fondle a stranger. I take the menu the hostess left me to peruse and hold it up to cover my face. But it's no use, and I peer over the top to take another look. This time he's staring at me, and I'm so busted.

The man’s face breaks into a smile, and he stands.
Oh crap!
Heavy footsteps approach, and I lower the menu. What is it with this town? Every single guy is huge, and this one is no exception. His deep voice reaches into me when he asks, “May I join you?”

“I… ah… I'm actually here for a meeting.”

Tall, dark, and devilishly handsome doesn't seem fazed by my answer, because a chair scrapes across the tile, and he sits across from me. “I’m Victor.”

He reaches over with a hand, and I place mine in his. Big mistake. Heat sears into my skin, and I might ooze right under the table considering the way my whole body just melted. I practically whimper. “Lily.”

“Please tell me you're not a bride planning her luncheon.”

“What? Oh, no. I'm just a sales rep.” I nod toward the bottle of Bear Mountain Tree Farm maple syrup I have on the table with me, because Lord knows I don't want to let go.

Recognition flashes in his eyes, and I guess it’s because the Le Roux are well known around here. He says, “Did you just move here? Because I would remember a beautiful woman like you.”

When he lifts my hand and kisses it, I almost moan. It's as if he reached right into my being and turned my desire up to high. “I—”

The hostess interrupts me. “Francois can see you now, Miss Wilson.”

I stand and grasp the bottle of syrup. Like an idiot, I give Victor a little wave and follow the woman toward the kitchen.

At my meeting, I must have managed to form coherent sentences while daydreaming about Victor, because forty-five minutes later, I'm out the door with fresh croissants and a new account. Grinning, I swing the bag a little as I make my way toward the parking lot. This is my first sale, and I'm proud of myself.

When I get closer to the truck, I find Victor leaning against it with his face tilted up to the sky. He has a pair of sunglasses on, and his huge arms are crossed over his chest. Goodness gracious, he's delicious looking.

As I approach, he steps away and pulls his glasses down to make eye contact with me. I'm trapped by the startling shade of green as he says, “You've ruined my day. I was perfectly happy to sip coffee to pass the time until my next meeting, and then you started staring at me.”

Cocky son of a bitch, isn't he?
“Really, that's all it takes?”

His huge grin reveals a perfect set of teeth. “It helps that I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever met. But I'm afraid I've missed my meeting waiting for the answer to my question.”

I snort and recall what he asked. “Okay, I did just move here from Colorado. Was there anything else you needed to know?”

He leans in so that he’s inches from my face, and I resist the urge to take a deep breath to inhale more of his intoxicating cologne. It's a spicy scent that has my senses tingling. Victor lowers his voice. “There's a lot about you I'd like to know. May I take you to lunch?”

While I haven't done more than kiss Ian, I'm not exactly free to date. “I’m sorry. I can’t.” I know I should add that I'm seeing someone, but the words get stuck in my throat.

“I understand.” He steps back and puts his sunglasses back on. Light bounces off the lenses, and I miss seeing his eyes. Victor continues, “I come here every Tuesday at ten for coffee. Perhaps I'll see you again.”

I nod as a smile forms on my face. “Yes, maybe you will.”

Victor strolls across the parking lot to a black BMW town car with tinted windows, and it makes me think of rock stars. A tall, dark man with shoulders almost as broad as Victor’s gets out and opens the back passenger door. Victor turns and waves to me before he gets in. I want to kick myself for watching, but the silly grin I can't contain drowns out my shame.

Unfortunately, guilt squashes my joy when I think about Ian and the predicament I'm in. I'm going to have to figure out a plan, because I can't force myself to fall in love with Ian. No matter how amazing the dreams were, I just experienced an attraction that I can't control. That's what I want, and now I need to find a way to make this relationship work.

C
arly

A
nnie
, Brady, and I are at Donna's house for our weekly breakfast. With Lily and Taylor at our home, we had to change the usual location because we take the chance of them overhearing clan discussions. I sip the tea Donna made me. Supposedly, this amber-pink hot water is supposed to be good for pregnant women, but it's making me crave a strong cup of coffee more than decaf does.

Donna says, “I’m not sure how we managed to call two prudes. Can you believe Lily has been here for over a week and doesn't want to sleep with Ian?” She sighs and reaches for more bacon. The plan to show Lily shifting got postponed when we realized she was going to need time to adjust to this new life.

I glance out the window at my mother-in-law's gardens. Lupine are in bloom, and she must have hundreds judging by the expanse of purple, pink, and yellow spread out as if in a Monet painting. I say, “Obviously, Ian isn't her true mate. Maybe we need to introduce her to more men in the clan?”

Brady says, “She'll be immersed in them for the Fourth of July celebration. Perhaps she'll find herself one.”

Donna is tapping a pencil on her day planner. “Yes, that's a good idea. Now what about Taylor? She hasn’t jumped in the sack with Matt yet, right?”

Brady chuckles, and I answer, “No, but she's only been here two days. Not everyone is like Sierra and me.”

Donna winks at me. “We should have added
slut
to the requirements.”

Annie shakes her head in disapproval, but I grin at Donna because we know each other so well now, and I get her humor.

Silverware clashes as Annie cuts her waffle, and she says, “Mother, you know full well Brady and Carly are true mates. They couldn't help themselves.” She snickers, too, because she's well aware of our sex life.

I say, “You know, Annie, you keep this up, and I'll have to find you a mate. Isn't there someone in the clan that could make you scream from your end of the hall?”

Her face flushes, and Donna jumps on it. “Annie! You're blushing like you have someone in mind. Who is it? Good God, girl, we need to get you some good loving.”

Annie shakes her head. “Nobody. When I find someone, I'm sure you'll know.”

I pat Annie's hand. “When it happens, I'll keep it a secret from Donna as long as I can, okay?” But I'm making a mental note to pay more attention to her when we’re around other men. Annie deserves someone to hold at night. She lost her true mate along with her father in an accident everyone thinks Victor caused.

Donna says, “Okay, back to business. As soon as either of those girls gets some action, we need to set up a shifting display and get them on board. I like the idea of using Keith's house for it.”

I sip my tea and pretend it isn't just colored hot water. Keith has a unique living room setup. One wall is clear glass with a view of the forest that is cultivated to come up against the edge of the house, instead of the lawn one would expect. If one of us were to shift outside the glass, the viewers would be safe and able to witness it with minimal fear. When Sierra and I saw Keith transform into a werebear, we didn’t know what we were watching, and I almost shot Keith in the process.

“Me, too.” I look over at Brady with a grin. “And no guns, right?”

Brady smiles, but it's not a full one, and I wonder what has him distracted. He says, “We have a small problem with Sierra and Keith. Keith told me earlier that Sierra wants to move back to our house.”

A sense of dread floods my being, because whatever her reason is, it can't be good, and I'm scared for my best friend. I long for our meeting to be over so I can talk to her before we train with Ian this morning.

Donna says, “Let me know if I can do anything. Clearly, Patricia didn't have much influence on her son.”

Patricia Veilleux is Victor’s mother and just as evil as he is. When the Northeast Kingdom female clan leaders met, I suggested she remove Victor from Sierra’s life. After he bit Sierra at my wedding, he’s spent his spare time having telepathic phone sex in her mind.

“If she even spoke to him at all. Something's up here, and I don't doubt for one minute that she's part of the plan.” I push my eggs around with my fork but don’t take a bite.

Donna says, “Agreed. Victor somehow knew about us calling women. I suspect he got to the Native American woman who helped me, but the question is, what does he want with Sierra?”

I shake my head and say, “One more piece of business. Taylor is some kind of martial arts expert. She used to teach krav maga. I've invited her to train with us this morning to see what she's got.”

Donna's face lights up. “Krav maga? That's the one that came from street fighting. Excellent.”

I smile to myself, because I've become quite the warrior since I moved to Maine. Who knew I had it in me? I sure didn't. “Speaking of that, I should get going.”

Brady clears our plates, and dishes clatter as Annie stacks them in the sink for washing. Donna says to me, “Before you go, I want to lend you something.”

She leads me to her living room. Her house is smaller than ours, but it's cozy and has plenty of room for one. We walk over to a bookcase, and she pulls out a leather-bound album and hands it to me. “These are Brady and Annie's baby pictures. I thought you might enjoy looking at them.”

The book is heavy in my hands, and I wonder just how many photos there are. “Thank you, I will.” I flash back to my baby album. I remember seeing it as a child, but the book disappeared at some point, and I don't know what happened to it.

Donna's warm touch pulls me out of my thoughts. “Thank you, for giving me the gift I feared I would never get.” Her eyes crinkle in a smile.

“You're welcome, and I hope you still feel that way when I dump them off because I can't deal.”

She chuckles. “Carly dear, you won't ever do such a thing. You'll be good at this.”

“I hope so. Right now I'm kind of afraid.”

“That's perfectly natural. But I'll bet childbirth hurts less than changing, and you'll have so much family to help, you should never feel overwhelmed.”

I think about how I am part of a big family now and how wonderful it is compared to the lonely life I had after my dad died. I embrace Donna, and she says in my head,
“I love you.”

My eyes sting as I reply, “I love you, too.” When I let her go, we both sniff and pretend it’s allergies.

***

S
ierra is
in the great room when we arrive back home. Her familiar red duffle bag is at her feet, and she's got her iPod cranked so loud I could hear the music coming from her earbuds before we walked in the door. Victor must be talking to her.

When I catch her eye, I make a V with my fingers and then replace it with just my middle digit. She cracks a smile, and it goes straight to my heart. I led her into this mess and want to make the bad parts go away. I vow that somehow I will.

I grab her bag and lead her up to the room where she'll be staying. Our feet seem to stomp in time to her music as we climb. Because we have a full house of guests, she's going to sleep on the third floor in a room that could be an office or storage area. The ceiling is slanted, and all the wood has been whitewashed in an attempt to make the space look bigger.

A double bed takes up most of the room, but the large skylight makes the atmosphere cheery, and I think she’ll be quite comfortable considering this is still much nicer than the apartments we had in California.

Sierra throws herself on the bed, and the springs squeak at her assault. A motherly desire takes over, and I begin to unpack her bag. Her underwear and bras are silky soft in my hands as I place them in the top dresser drawer.

When I get to her jeans, the music suddenly stops, and she says, “Fuck.” Earbuds thud against the wall before clattering to the floor. “Damn it, that man is going to be the death of me.”

The mattress bounces lightly as I sit next to her. “Hey, we get to work out soon, and you can kick his ass on the punching bag.”

“Yeah.”

Tears are rolling down Sierra's face, and I lie down to pull her into a hug. “Oh, honey, go ahead and cry.”