Snowbound With The Bear (Bear Creek Clan 4) (2 page)

In one swift movement, he was on his knees, her head in his warm hands. She whimpered against him; if she had the strength, her tail would be wagging like a common dog. He looked into her eyes and spoke, “I’m going to carry you. Do you understand? I need you to stay calm and not struggle.”

She nodded her head almost imperceptibly, but he felt it. They understood each other.

It took him a couple attempts to get her up into his arms. She tried to stay relaxed, not hard when your body is incapable of any real movement, but still he struggled to stand. When he held her securely, he leaned down and grabbed the strap of his pack. Somehow, he found the strength to carry her and drag the pack behind him. She had no idea where he would take her, and it did not matter. Anything had to be better than dying in the snow.

Endlessly, he trudged through the snow, climbing up the steep slopes with superhuman strength. Consciousness came and went. Every time she opened her eyes, she expected to see something different. Every time it was just white everywhere, swirling around them, clinging to them and soaking them as it melted.

She was jolted awake by the sensation of falling. At first she thought he must have reached their destination and be setting her down none to gently. But as she scrambled to right herself, she saw he was falling forward, too—his foot had gone down a hole and tipped them forward. Lying on the snow, winded, she watched as the white turned to red. He was bleeding, a deep cut across his chest where she had clawed him in her blind panic.

Her heart contracted in her chest; she would never intentionally cause him pain, never. She ducked her head and pulled herself forward, licking his arm and then his chest. If she could have rolled over, she would have shown him her tummy. Anything for him to know she meant him no aggression.

“It’s alright. I know it was an accident.”

He braced himself and then stood up. In his face, she could see his exhaustion and knew she had to try to help him. Once more, she tried to stand; this time she found the energy to push herself up. He put his hands under her rib cage and helped her. For a moment, she braced herself, keeping herself upright. Then she took one-step forward. It took every ounce of her strength, but she did it.

Side by side, they dragged themselves up the mountain; he guided them, zigzagging to make it easier. He had left the pack, concentrating instead on getting them to safety.

“Not much further now,” he said, his hand buried in her fur so that they weren’t separated in the snow. “I always liked living high up, now I wish I had a nice cosy house in town.”

She was glad he didn’t. If he hadn’t been passing by, she would be dead. Talk about fated mates. It seemed they came along at just the right time. Fate had made him pass her way and she would be forever grateful.

At the point when she knew she could go on no more, he said, “There.”

She looked, but couldn’t see where his “there” was, but his pace picked up and he dragged her forward. A dark shadow appeared against the snow, and they were practically on his porch before she realised. Never had she been so glad to be home. And this would be her home, if he’d have her. There was no going back; her clan were no longer her family.
He
was. Bonded mates: that meant the same to the bears. Right?

The feel of her fur against his fingers was all that kept him going when his body wanted to collapse in the snow. Burning muscles screamed at him to stop; he couldn't go on. But the feel of her fur anchored his determination to succeed. He needed to put one foot in front of the other and guide them to the cabin. They were so close. But the fall had taken the fight out of him. If she hadn’t got up and walked, then they would both be out there, dead in the snow.

His cabin was right in front of them. He knew because he had walked this path so many times, but he couldn't see it; the blizzard had almost become a white out. Only his other senses told him he was home. Then they were on the porch and he was on his knees, scraping the snow away from the door so they could get inside. There was a shovel here somewhere, but they didn’t have the luxury of time. So he risked frostbite and used his hands.

Reaching up, he grabbed the handle of the door and pulled on it, raising himself to his knees and then his feet. As he opened the door, the rush of warm air hit them and he staggered forward into its welcoming arms, dragging her with him.

There they lay on the threshold while he caught his breath. Then he crawled forward enough to shut the door, pushing it with his feet. Collapsing back down, he lay side by side with a wolf, in his home. Inside, he laughed at the picture that flashed into his mind of them here. But his body didn’t express the humour it felt; it lacked the ability to move another inch.

Time passed by, how much he didn’t know. He knew he should get up and change out of his wet clothes, but he didn’t have the energy. Instead he pulled his shirt off and pushed his jeans down off his legs to lie there semi-naked next to his mate. Occasionally his eyes flickered open and his fingers closed around her fur. For now, they were both still alive. Slowly the warmth of the cabin chased the chill from his bones and his brain began to work.

He sat upright. They had been still too long; she had been a wolf too long. To be your other self was not without dangers, one of which was sleeping too long as your animal. It lead to some confusion and in extreme cases the inability to recognise that you had another side, a human side.

Turning to look at her, he noted her shallow breathing and cursed himself for not helping her sooner. Placing his hand on her fur, he gently rubbed her neck and then down her shoulder to try to get some feeling into her body. Nothing. He rolled over to kneel beside her, suddenly becoming aware of the throbbing pain across his chest. He looked at his torn skin and remembered her claws scratching him; he would have to clean that up soon to stop infection. He had no antibiotics here, and the chances of getting into town in this weather were near zero.

Placing both his hands on her, he shook her firmly; pleased to see her legs twitch. She needed to warm up and the best place for that would be on the hearth of the fire. He put his arms around her and dragged her along the floor, too tired to lift her. At first, it was OK, but then she opened her eyes and panicked.

Teeth and claws, protecting herself, she got to her feet, her back legs shaking under the sudden strain. Hal earned himself another scratch, this time along his arm. He cursed as the blood dripped from him. Then his blood froze: the wolf before him seemed to have forgotten he was trying to help her. Instead, she stood licking her lips. The scent of his blood must have been too strong and now she wanted to taste his flesh.

All he could do was change into his bear and take her down, hopefully with little bloodshed. However, the chances of his cabin remaining intact were slim. And when it was the only thing protecting them from the elements, he couldn't allow her to do too much damage.

Yet when the wolf braced herself ready to spring forward, he knew he had to act.

Confusion filled her brain. Where was she? What was she? Her body wasn't her own, it was all sluggish. How she had come to be lying on the floor in a strange house, she couldn’t remember. All she knew was that a man she didn’t know was crouched over her—touching her!

Instinct kicked in, she needed to protect herself. Teeth bared, she stood facing him, her claws already having inflicted damage to his chest and arm. The scent of his blood filled her nostrils. She had never killed a man before, but she had never felt more wolf before. Her blood pumped through her veins, to the steady rhythm of the words—kill, kill.

He had dared touch her, no doubt violate her, in her unconscious state. He sickened her and he would pay dearly. Ready to pounce, she licked her lips, tasting his scent on her tongue. In that split second she knew him, his scent carrying every detail she would ever need to know about him. He was her mate, the man she had saved herself for.

All the memories of the last couple of hours flooded into her brain. Being chased, the snow, the feel of his hands on her face. Every second of it came back to her. She knew who she was, the other side of herself. The part she had nearly forgotten. In her mind, she formed the image of her human form and this time when she stepped into it, she had the strength to take hold of it, to control it. As her wolf readied to spring at him, her other self took over. The energy crackled and she saw the look of confusion on his face. Then she separated from this world to return as a woman, falling into his arms.

He caught her, holding her in his arms when her legs no longer supported her. Picking her up, he took her into a room, his sitting room, where he placed her on a sofa. To help warm her chilled body, he dragged the sofa closer to the wood-burning stove that heated the cabin. Then he went and got blankets, covering her with them carefully, his hand resting on her for a moment.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “I would be dead if you hadn’t found me.”

“I had no choice,” he answered. “You know that. You feel it too.”

She paused, but there was no way she could deny it. “Yes. I’m sorry I’ve brought this on you.”

“Brought what on me? We are mates. That’s all that matters. You can tell me why you were on the mountain when you’re stronger. All you need to know now is that you’re safe.”

“I don't know if you can protect me.”

“You are in Bear Creek now and you are my mate. If anyone comes for you, it won't just be me they have to deal with. Anyway. They most probably think you’re dead. Nothing would survive out there in this storm. Maybe that’s for the best.”

“Maybe,” she murmured. She knew he was right. Until some control returned to her clan, she was safer here with him. Her eyes grew heavy; she needed to sleep, to forget about everything that had happened, everything but him.

When sleep took her, she welcomed it, although once or twice she woke, bad dreams chasing her out of her slumber. Each time he was there, watching over her. Each time he looked more tired than the last. Eventually she lifted the covers and said, “Why don't you lie here with me?”

He hesitated. “I don't want to disturb you.”

Then she realised there wasn’t much room on the sofa. “Where do you sleep?”

“I’ll show you.”

With that he picked her up, carrying her out of the living room and along a short hallway to his bedroom. In his arms, she trembled with anticipation. They were bonded mates and there was only one thing bonded mates did in the bedroom, apart from sleep. Was that what he expected now, after everything they had gone through? Her invitation for him to lie next to her had not been for anything other than comfort. Not sex.

He took her to his bedroom, which was sparsely furnished. It contained only his bed and a small closet, hand-carved from wood. She wondered if he had carved it, with his large, capable hands. Fiona had to swallow down her desire to have him place those capable hands on her naked body. She wasn’t ready for that. Not tonight. She was about to voice her concerns when he placed her down on the bed.

Tilting her face to his, she opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it. “Scoot across and try to sleep. I’ll build the fire up so that we don’t get cold. We both need a long sleep. Whatever is after you won’t get far in this storm.” He placed his hand under her chin, stroking it absently. “You are safe here.”

“I know,” she said and moved across the bed, shivering again with cold. She longed for him to climb in beside her and press herself against his body for warmth. Instead, she amused herself by watching him feed the fire, stoking it up to a roaring blaze so that the room soon warmed. Then he carefully built it up so that it would burn all night. It reminded her of her desire for him. A burst of desire and then a deep-seated need that would last for the rest of their lives. If he would have her. That question still hung in the air.

As her eyes closed, she felt the bed dip under his weight and then the warmth of his body next to hers. He smelt of wood smoke, mixed with a masculine scent all his own. It was what made him unique; she breathed it in deeply, finding comfort in the rise and fall of his chest and the steady beat of his heart. It lulled her to sleep; this time no bad dreams invaded her peace—he was right, she was safe. For now, at least.

***

Outside the storm raged, snow falling thick and fast; nothing could make its way through that. She knew, she had tried. Their tracks and her scent would be gone from the mountain and she very much doubted she was worth enough to them to risk their lives for.

He was right she would be presumed dead; her family would mourn her and she would live here in this cabin with her mate. Those thoughts both comforted her and saddened her as sleep fell away and she opened her eyes. Next to her, the big muscled body of her mate lay, his breathing slow and steady. He was still asleep and she took this opportunity to look at him properly for the first time. The light coming through the window was enough for her to make out his features clearly.

His skin was tanned, a deep golden brown, no doubt from his days up here in the mountain. She could imagine him in the warm summer sunshine, shirt off, chopping wood for the winter with his axe. His toned muscles bunching as he raised it above his head and then brought it down with his full strength. She couldn’t help running her fingers across his biceps, following the contours down over his chest. With his dark hair, long and shaggy, he looked wild and virile. His features were softened by rich, natural mahogany highlights threaded through his hair. They stopped him looking brooding and moody.

Curling up her fingers, she had to pull her hand back to stop herself from running them through his silky hair. There was nothing about him she didn’t like, except perhaps that he was a bear. If he had been a wolf then the clan would have had no reason to object to this mating. And her cousin would have no reason to pursue her. Maybe it wouldn’t matter and they would give up anyway, once they knew she was mated.