Eventide of the Bear (The Wild Hunt Legacy #3) (10 page)

By the God, what he’d give to be roaming the forest now. The cool evening wind would sweep off the glaciers and carry a brisk hint of snow. Birds would be chirping sleepily, and pixies would retire to their hollows…before the owls came out to hunt. Before bedding down for the night, deer and elk would visit their favorite watering holes.

Ben agreed. An hour sipping an icy brew and shooting the bull with friends at the tavern made the day’s labors worthwhile.

Eventide was a special time.

Unfortunately, rather than a wilderness run or a trip to the tavern, he’d be doing paperwork.
Fuck.

He heard the thud of Ryder’s boots in the great room and heading closer. The thumps stopped, and from the doorway, his brother regarded the room silently.

Paperwork buried the heavy walnut desk, drafting table, and bookshelves. Piles of bills were mixed with invoices, forms, requisitions, and payroll statements. “There’s a mess.”

“You got a talent for stating the obvious,” Ben countered sourly. He leafed through the papers on the desk, hoping to find the school addition specs.

“You used to have a talent for staying on top of things.”

Yeah, well, back then, Ryder’d been around to help out.

But blaming his brother for the mess wasn’t…completely…fair. “The business doubled over the past couple of years. You know those customizations I’d started putting into shifters’ houses?”

Ryder nodded.

“Got real popular. The local shifters alone keep me swamped with jobs.” Ben found a bill he’d forgotten to send out and set it on another pile. “The number of hellhounds has increased in the territory, which means more patrolling for cahirs. In addition, out-of-territory cahirs are coming here to learn from Shay and Zeb how to kill hellhounds. I help with the training.”

“And now the Cosantir’s dumped an injured female in your house.”

“Yep. I don’t have enough hours in the day. Paperwork is low priority.”

“Got it.” Ryder leaned against the doorframe. “Want help?”

“From you?” The memory of long-held pain edged Ben’s voice. “Seriously? Haven’t we wandered this trail before?” The rancor in his kneejerk response was a surprise.

Ryder stiffened as if he’d been knifed, then his expression changed to resignation. And guilt.

Ben opened and closed his hands as if the gesture would release the bitterness accrued over the years. Dammit, he’d missed his brother. What was he doing?

It’d been bad when they were separated at five. Reuniting at twenty, they’d traveled the country, brawling, mating the females, and learning about each other.

In Siskiyou Territory, Ben turned contractor and started a construction business. Building and remodeling houses fulfilled his dreams.

Ryder preferred smaller projects—the woodworking inside a home, building furniture, fireplace mantels, railings. He’d apprenticed with a master craftsman—and added on accounting classes for fun.
By the God, fun?

But they’d both been happy…or so Ben had thought.

However, the discovery he’d killed his mother in childbirth knocked him sideways. And then Ryder’d abandoned everything and left with Genevieve. Hurting and alone, Ben’d torn up roots and wandered north to start over in Cold Creek.

He’d been more resentful than he’d realized.

Ben shook his head. By Herne’s hide and hooves, he was an idiot, clinging to old pain like a child. “Sorry, bro.” He scratched his shoulders on the rough doormat he’d nailed to one wall. “I’ll take you up on your offer. Thank you.”

Ryder closed his eyes for a second, pulling in a breath. His cave-deep voice emerged uneven. “I’m sorry, too. When you said you wouldn’t lifemate, I couldn’t see how a male could live without a female. But leaving—I hurt you in a way I never intended.”

Yeah, he had. But the lines on Ryder’s face exposed an equal amount of pain. And Ben’s decision about never lifemating affected them both. Should have been discussed. “We both fucked up.”

A corner of Ryder’s mouth tipped up. “I missed working with you.”

“Me, too.” Ben asked the question they’d been dancing around. “Is this temporary or are you going to stay?”

Ryder met his eyes. “I want to stay. I want Minette to have a family.”

Well.
Family was a good word. A fine word. “I want that, too.” He paused. “And Genevieve?”

Ryder hesitated. “She obviously didn’t care for the cub. But…she kept Minette. I don’t know why or what she’ll do now.”

Ben wasn’t surprised Genevieve was a crappy mother. Caring for a cub would take time from herself. Hopefully, she’d count Minette’s loss as a win, because he found the thought of losing the cub intolerable. “With the Mother’s grace, she’ll stay away.”

“Aye.” Ryder rubbed his jaw with his knuckles—a typical feline quirk. Did all cats groom themselves when discomfited?

Ben smothered a smile. Felt like old times.

After studying the room, Ryder straightened. “There’s not enough space for both of us in here. Got anywhere else? You also need a hell of a lot bigger filing cabinet.” His gaze lingered on the ancient computer, the very one he’d bought for Ben six years before. He gave a snort of disbelief. “And equipment upgrades.”

“I can see you’re going to be a pain in the tail.” Ben didn’t even try to conceal his grin.

‡

E
mma had reached
the great room all by herself.
Success.
Unfortunately, she hurt so badly now she might throw up. Pain and nausea certainly shattered a sense of victory into splinters. What a way to enjoy a Sunday.

As she sat unmoving on the couch, the throbbing in her leg started to subside. Finally.

After the males spent the day setting up Ryder’s equipment in a shop out back, Ben had taken Minette to the town park, and Ryder’d left to visit the tavern.

How could she resist the opportunity to see how mobile she could be? It was time. She’d been in Ben’s house a week now, doing nothing productive and taking up his time, although he’d never indicated he resented her presence.

Ryder, however… Although he was polite, she sure didn’t get the impression he liked her. Or trusted her.

She couldn’t stay helpless.

As the aching in her leg decreased, she started to settle into the peace of the house.

The werebear had created a wonder of a “cave” for himself. The great room’s oak flooring was covered with a mahogany rug. A painting of a mountain sunset hung over the creamy marble fireplace. Tall umbrella plants in hip-high, bronze planters stood next to filled, built-in bookshelves.

Bracketed by two armchairs, a dark leather, L-shaped sectional with a leather ottoman dominated the room’s center. On each side of the room, small forests of plants basked in the sunlight from tall, leaded glass windows.

Truly, he had made himself a wilderness den.

Rattling at the front door made her jump—and hiss with renewed pain. Ben’s rumbling laugh announced his arrival. A minute later, he entered, bending over to hold hands with Minette. Looked like he’d finally succeeded in winning her trust.

Emma smiled. Watching the two big males courting the cub was heartwarming.

Ben started across the room, saw Emma, and his brows drew together.

She stiffened, feeling a chill run through her veins. Maybe she shouldn’t have come downstairs. What if he didn’t want her in his living space when he wasn’t home?

“The healer told you to stay off your leg,” he growled.

Her leg? He was upset because…he cared enough to worry about her? As the realization melted something hard inside her, she smiled at him.

His frown disappeared. As his eyes warmed, she couldn’t help seeing him as…male. So very, very male.

“I-I’m fine,” she said hastily. “I used the railing on the stairs.” Nevertheless, each hop to a lower step had jarred painfully. She nodded at the nearby wooden chair. “Down here, I used the chair as a crutch. I didn’t put any weight on my leg.”

His thickly muscled arms folded over his brawny chest. “Hopping on one leg isn’t exactly safe, li’l bear.”

Oh, he was a stubborn bear. “Maybe. But, I—” She broke off when Minette approached the sectional. “Hi, sweetheart.”

The cubling sucked her thumb and watched Emma with her big, wary eyes.

Emma dared to reach out and touch her cheek. Children. Their joy and laughter, and even squabbles, were a delight to the heart.

Minette edged forward far enough to touch Emma’s braid, stroking it with her little fingers. After a minute, she rubbed it against her cheek and leaned against Emma’s uninjured leg, still sucking her thumb.

Emma’s lips twitched. As a cub, she’d hidden her security blankie in her bed so her mother wouldn’t destroy it. How wonderful that Minette considered anything of Emma’s to be comforting.

Looking up, Emma saw Ben’s tanned face had softened with a smile.

After taking a minute to savor the simple pleasure of companions, Emma asked, “What’s in your bag, Minette?”

The child crossed the room to get her green bag from the bookcase.

“She trusted you faster than she did me,” Ben grumbled before grinning. “Good job.”

“Children like me.” Her teacher had said a bard usually possessed a charisma that drew people in. Emma rather thought her “charisma” only worked on children. The master had said he’d never met a shy bard before, either. Then again, perhaps no bards had ever had mothers as cruel as Emma’s.

Returning, Minette opened her bag to show off the brightly colored Legos and small plastic animals.

As the cubling leaned against her again, Emma pulled in a contented breath. Daonain weren’t meant to live alone, and she had been so very lonely. “Can you make something for me?”

Minette plopped down on the thick rug and dumped the contents of the bag.

“She’s an amazing builder.” Ben sat down right beside Emma. To her consternation, his weight sagged the cushions and tilted her against his rock-hard chest. Rather than moving away, he extended his arm along the back of the sectional.

She frowned up at him.

He only smiled. “I take it you got tired of being in bed?”

Every breath brought her the scents of masculine sweat and musk, faint traces of sap from the wood he’d been cutting, the clean smell of laundry soap…and a whiff of his interest.

Under his appreciative gaze, she felt small and feminine. Deep inside her, the female stirrings flickered to life.

No. No, no, no.
She’d given herself a lecture after the last time this happened. No interest. The Gathering had proven she couldn’t be trusted. Disaster had followed in the wake of her vanity. Never, never again.

She shoved herself up off the sectional. Too fast, she realized, as her weight came down on her injured leg. A burning pain knifed through her leg, and she whimpered.

“Dammit, female.”

Mother’s blessing, but it hurt.
Like someone was stabbing the mended bones over and over with a long sword. Tears filling her eyes, she sank down, steadied by strong hands. “How stupid.” Her voice came out humiliatingly shaky.

“Shhh.” He pulled her against his big chest and held her quietly as the searing agony lessened.

With a low sigh, she sagged against him.

“It’s all right, Minette,” he said quietly. “Emma hurt her leg. When she moves fast, it hurts.”

Oh, no.
She’d scared the cub. She blinked away the tears and saw the cubling studying her, little brow furrowed. When Emma managed a smile, Minette moved her toys closer and settled on the rug next to the couch.

“There, now, you worried us both.” Cupping her cheek with one hand, Ben used his thumb to stroke the wetness from her skin. “You don’t need to run from me, Emma. Am I that unlikable? Frightening?”

She’d hurt his feelings. Oh, my Goddess, she’d never meant to make him feel bad. “No. No. But I’m not… I don’t do male-female stuff. Ever.” If the Daonain had nuns, she’d enter a convent. But shifters didn’t practice celibacy—quite the reverse. Female shifters went into heat once a month, and with every full moon, the Daonain gathered and mated, and ensured their survival.

“A tad difficult to avoid male-female stuff, isn’t it?” The amusement had returned to his captivating voice. He not only had the rough, deep bass common to male werebears, but the bright descant of laughter in it was like moonlight on a dark lake.

“Well…” What could she say?

Not waiting for her answer, he stroked his knuckles along her cheek, and this time, his touch wasn’t for comfort.

The long, slow caress set desire simmering in her veins and shook her with the long-forgotten feel of a male’s hands on her body. But more than this would not—could not—be. Her mouth firmed. “Avoidance is difficult, but not impossible. Hibernation helps.”

“Hibernation?” His intent eyes deepened to the intense hue of a mountain bluebird. “You’re not pulling my tail? You don’t attend Gatherings? How long were you in the forest alone?”

She took his questions one-by-one. “Yes. I’m not. I don’t. And it’s none of your business.” He was right, though. All too soon, she’d have to think about what she’d do for the next full moon.

“But”—he obviously forced himself to stop—“all right.” After a second, he shook his head. “You’re safe with me, li’l bear. I have no interest in mating or in looking for a lifemate.” As a mountain wind would reveal the granite beneath the snow, she watched his jaw harden. “I enjoy touching, but I mate only because it’s required.”