The Bear King's Captive: Curvy Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance (21 page)

FORTY-ONE

Before Hannes opened the front door, he pitched Leah up a few inches to readjust her position on his shoulder. She was easy to control this way. He needed to remember this when she ignored him.

She gasped. “The what?”

“The Ditch. They go through waist-deep water trying not to fall or drown the wife.” Hannes threw open the front door and stepped into the shin high snow. Dusk had set in, making the light breeze cold.

Leah’s screams reversed. “Don’t you dare drop me!”

Hannes trudged around the corner where the low sun cut through the trees, lighting snow piled along the house and garage.

“If they make it through the ditch,” his breathing came fast, his words, choppy. “The finish line is in sight. The husband is so exhausted, he stumbles to the ground. The wife flies forward, crashing onto the dirt.”

Leah grabbed the side of his shirt and peeked around his ribs. “Hannes Otila, don’t even think about it!”

He grinned and stumbled. “Oh, no! The husband can’t continue…”

“Hannes, I swear to God, if you--”

Thrusting with powerful thighs, he lunged forward, heaving Leah off his shoulder and into the middle of a ten-foot snowdrift alongside the house.

She screamed through the flight then fell deathly silent when sinking into the snow. The drift was deeper than Hannes expected. Leah completely disappeared into the white powder.

Voi
paska
! Leah? You okay?” No reply. “Leah!” The drift covered his knees and steeply sloped toward the roof. “Leah!” Side to side, he threw snow, burrowing a shallow trench. Visions of her crumpled body with a broken neck or stake through her middle made his heart race. He dug faster, ignoring the growing weariness in his arms.

The inner animal lent him strength, but didn’t seem worried. No fear or blood was tasted in the air. So why wasn’t she answering?

Winston rounded the corner, wearing his winter coat and carrying blankets. When he saw Hannes, he ran forward. Hannes struggled to lift his legs over the packed snow. Within a few feet of Leah’s cavernous crater, he yelled, “Leah, answer me!”

A grapefruit-sized snowball flew out the hole and smacked Hannes in the face. Winston doubled over laughing. Another ball launched his way. He rolled over backward, holding his stomach.

Hannes wiped the ice off his face. “Two can play that game, Princess.” He stepped back and rolled a bowling ball-sized projectile. Before he threw it, another ball rocketed out the opening, brushing his arm. “Not bad--for a girl.” That would rile her.

“Incoming!” He tossed the packed slug, hitting dead center.

A scream spewed out the hole. Another snowball launched. Hannes ducked.

Racked with hysterics, Winston pushed off the ground and joined in. Together, they bombarded the gap. Leah laughed and screamed. “No fair. Okay, I surrender! I’m freezing!”

Hannes and Winston plowed to the opening. Hannes peeked over the side. Lying like a rag doll, Leah sprawled in a deep imprint. Chunks of crumbled snowballs covered her.

She lifted her arms like a child to its mother. He pulled her close. The delicate scent of her hair washed over him. Her cheek against his raced tingles to his toes. His lips wanted to taste the soft flesh of her neck. Her presence overpowered him with desire to lose himself in her, deep in her.

“Hurry up before she freezes to death.” Winston leaned over the hole’s edge.

Hannes snapped out of the spell and slid an arm under her knees. Lifting her out, his gaze held her smiling eyes. Reluctantly, he set her down. Winston wrapped a blanket around Leah’s shoulders and led her toward the front doors. He tossed the other blanket at Hannes.

On the porch, Winston stomped the snow from his boots. “Both of you boneheads change into dry clothes. Dinner is ready.”

Leah shook the snow off her stockinged feet. The other shoeless bonehead followed suit. Winston headed inside, mumbling under his breath.

“You have a good arm on you, Princess.” Hannes shook the snow from his hair.

She looked down then coyly lifted her eyes to his. “Yeah, well, that’s not the only good thing on me.”

His posture stiffened. Leah blushed bright pink, laughed, and ran inside.

Winston fed the boneheads seated on both sides of him. Late in the evening, Leah yawned. Winston glanced at his watch. “It’s getting late. Perhaps you should retire. We have two more rooms to clean tomorrow.”              

“That sounds like a fantastic idea.” She picked up her plate and glass.

Waving his hand, Winston said, “Leave that. Hannes will help with the kitchen tonight…” He leaned toward Hannes sitting with his elbows propped on the table, watching Leah. “Won’t you?” Hannes snapped back in his chair and scratched the back of his head. “Of course.”

Leah’s eyes narrowed. “Hmm, I’d like to see that.”

“Don’t be silly.” Winston tried to cover her suspicion. “We’ll see you in the morning. I’ll have breakfast ready. Now, go on.” He shooed her out of the kitchen. Leaning back in his chair, Winston tittered to himself.

“What’s so funny?”

The old butler reached for Leah’s dishes. “Hannes, I will devote the rest of my life to the saint who took pity on your soul and sent this young lady into our lives.”

“What are you talking about? She’s a constant pain in my arse. She steals my crackers, tells me I chew loud, and makes me throw her into a snowdrift.” Hannes slapped his hand on the table, threw his head back and laughed.

Slowly shaking his head, Winston gathered the plates. “Please bring the silverware and glasses.”

Hannes wiped his eyes and carried his first ever dishes from the table to the sink. Winston loved to hear laughter again from his ward. For such a long time, Hannes’ sadness and self-imposed isolation worried him. He didn’t want to kill Hannes’ rare happiness, but he had no choice. He took the knives from Hannes and prepared for battle. “Tomorrow, you are to put her on a plane to America. No argument. It must be done.”

Hannes’ laughter and smile died, along with Winston’s heart. Hannes returned to the table and picked up the napkins and remaining items. From the corner of his eye, Winston watched as Hannes placed everything into the sink and rounded the bar. Under the archway, he stopped. “I have a meeting early in the morning. I’ll take her afterward.”

“I need to go to the market.” Winston closed the dishwasher. “You can drop me off and pick me up after your meeting.”

“No. I don’t want her by herself.” Hannes turned and walked into the dark hall.

Winston sighed and sat at the table. Alternate possibilities churned in his head. He wanted Leah to stay, apparently as much as Hannes did. But that didn’t matter. Her life would be in continuous danger around them.

Leah opened the door to her bedroom and softly closed it behind her. Her last conversation with Winston played in her mind. She’d never heard him use so many contractions at one time. He was hiding something.

She walked over to the window and looked down on the moonlit snow. Maybe she was overreacting; he had one more glass of wine than usual. Winston didn’t seem like the type who held secrets. Did they have plans for her? Were they stringing her along and secretly laughing, knowing her gruesome fate?              

A massive chill shook her body, as if icy hands violated her from within. An overwhelming urge to run away and hide gripped her. She yanked the curtains closed and dove to the bed.

Balled up under the comforter, her frightened mind wanted Hannes here, now—but not for sex! Hell, no. Never. Well…

After changing into her nightgown, Leah snuggled into bed, pulling the covers to her chin. She was overreacting. Neither Winston nor Hannes would hurt her, but something was coming. She felt it.

FORTY-TWO

Hannes threw the TV remote across the room. He rolled off the bed and paced. Why did he let himself do this? He knew what would happen in the end. The first time he saw her standing strong and defiant on the docks, he wanted to break her, show who the master was, possess her body and soul.

Now, she had chipped away his rock exterior, mastered his heart, and sent fire through his body. He yanked open the thick curtains covering the window and rested his forehead against the freezing glass. The frigid pane fogged under his hot breath; when the warmth stopped, he watched the cold and dark devour and reclaim the glass.

He had to let her go.

No.

He had to reason with his other half. If held against her will, Leah’s fear and hate would tear him apart. If he kept her, maybe, with time, she could learn not to loathe him.

Mate.

That damn word again. He threw the curtains together. Who was he kidding? There was no choice. With his enemies’ continuous search for him, the safest place for her was home, forever out of his life. A lump formed in his throat. He would put her on a plane tomorrow morning.

The inner voice disagreed. It threatened to dump his human ass into the lake with no fur to help him.

Great. His other half was becoming a smart-ass comic. Seemed Leah affected it as much as it did him.

Passing the bathroom, he inhaled a whiff of her soap and sweet shampoo. He opened the door, and instantly she surrounded him, immersing and filling him. His mind slipped into fantasy.

He closed his eyes and saw her there, in the bathroom, coming out of the shower wet and smiling at him. Her gorgeous body full of curves beckoned him to touch it. To take her. He turned to leave before he did something she didn’t want.

“Don’t go,” she whispered.

“Why not?” He knew the answer but asked anyway.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment. You have been, too.”

He stood, watching the water droplets trail down her body, down her nipples, down her belly and to the juncture of her thighs. He wanted to stare at her forever.

“Hannes,” she said, her voice soft and husky. “Don’t just stand there. Come closer.”

He took a step inside, only to have her reach up and glide wet fingers over his face. “Leah…”

“Kiss me,” she ordered him.

There was no time to think, she pressed her delicious body to his and curled her arms around his neck, pulling him down. An instant sizzle sounded the moment their lips met. She kissed him with a need he matched. The aching in his bear made it hard for him to stay in control. He caressed her back, sliding his hands down the curve of her ass to grope her cheeks.

He kissed the corner of her mouth, her jaw down to her neck, and sucked on the clean scented skin.

“Yes,” she moaned. “Please. Don’t you want me?”

Want her? He couldn’t figure out how to control the growing need for her. “Princess…”

She kissed the side of his face, circling her tongue around her jaw and tugging at his earlobe with her teeth. “Stop procrastinating, Hannes. You want me just as much as I want you. You know it’s true. The feelings are overwhelming, taking control, and they scare you. I know because I want you just as badly.”

More.

Mine.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

The loud roaring of the words brought him back to reality. He was hard and frustrated. And she was right, he did want her a lot more than he wanted to admit.

FORTY-THREE

Leah bolted upright in bed, struggling for air. She threw off the covers and swung her legs over the side. Sweat trickled from her temple. Would her nightmares never end? She was exhausted.

Far below, as if from Hell itself, undulating music surged. An angel played to her soul as only Bach or Stevie could. The deep bass notes vibrated the walls, enticing long-suppressed, primitive hunger.

The seduction--the power--of the music took her. She let her head drop back. The heart pounding rhythm carried her soul faster and higher. The classical sonata played harder, climbed higher. Play, my angel! Yearning seized her heart, squeezing tightly. Building faster. Playing louder. Breathing, throbbing. Squeezing, pounding, beating until…silence.

Leah released the cry in her throat and collapsed onto the bed. Her breathing and body relaxed, letting her mind slide past inhibitions. The music started again--

Encapsulating her, an aria floats in the air. She sits up on the bed. Ethereal harmony calms and sooths her disquieted soul. Who is playing such beautiful music?

Dressed in her robe and slippers, she descends the stairs. Melody flows from the library. Like her first night in the house, she peeks around the door. Her heart drums in her ears.

Basked in moonlight at the far end of the dark room, Hannes’ form silhouettes against the bright snow outside. His commanding body glides side to side while his hands bounce from key to key on a blood-red baby grand piano. His playing is perfection and the sound courses through her.

She pushes open the door and steps across the threshold. Her breath transforms into fog, but the room doesn’t feel cold. In fact, her skin feels no air, no circulation, nothing.

His rolled up sleeves reveal his strong forearms as fingers dance up and down the ivories. The collar of his unbuttoned shirt drapes off the edge of his shoulders, exposing his slick, rippled chest each time the score demands higher registers.

She appears to him from the reflection in the window. He stops playing, but the music continues. She presses against his back. Her hand glides across his warm, smooth chest. He twists around, takes her by the waist, and tucks her into his lap. She wraps her arms around his neck and sups the moist skin below his jaw.

He cradles her close and inhales her. Loosening her robe constraints, he slides his hand to the small of her back and presses her flesh to his.

His body quivers. She leans away to look at him. He gazes at her face with tears in his eyes. She draws in her brows, and without speaking, asks him, “What is wrong, my Prince?” Her thumb gently wipes away a falling droplet.

His eyes are so sad that her heart breaks. He brushes his fingers across her cheek. “I don’t want you to leave me.”

She tilts her head to the side. “I don’t understand.” Her mind recalls the anxiety from her last conversation with Winston and her deep fear before falling asleep.

His lips graze her forehead. “It is time for you to die.”