The Bear's Surrogate: A Paranormal Pregnancy Romance

THE

BEARS SURROGATE 

A PARANORMAL PREGNANCY ROMANCE

ANGELA FOXXE

Copyright
©2015 by Angela Foxxe

All rights reserved.

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About This Book

Valemon Bjornson is an Alpha Werebear but he is also a Werebear in need!

There is a curse on his people that only a new born bear cub could cure and

Valemon must find a child and soon. So he puts out an ad for a surrogate.

Rachel Jenner is in a desperate need for cash and when she answers an ad looking for a surrogate she hoped everything would be simple.

However, when the man behind the advert makes some odd requests she begins to realize this is going to be anything but simple.

When Rachel got involved in all this she knew she would be a surrogate but she did not know that she would be the BEAR'S surrogate.

Now Valemon wants the baby to be conceived naturally and Rachel really has no idea what she has let herself in for...
 

                                           
CHAPTER ONE

C
HAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER ONE

Rachel Jenner loved to travel and see the world. She was never into those regular tourist trap places that try to pander to the average American tourist, though.  She wanted to go off the beaten path and see sites that not even the locals knew much about.

Her long blonde hair streamed in the wind as the small fishing boat navigated the narrow fjord.  She drew her warm winter jacket closer to her face as the chill sea wind of the Norwegian spring bit at her face.

The captain was a rugged looking man with a closely cropped blonde beard, with hair to match and eyes as grey as a stormy sea.  He wore a knitted sweater under his bright orange oilskins.    The only thing missing was the corncob pipe.

Rachel stood at the bow of the boat gazing upwards.  The high, rugged cliffs of the fjord loomed overhead, closed in at certain places, giving the place a cavern-like quality.  The cries of sea birds echoed off the jagged rock walls as they wheeled and dipped in their aerial displays. 

The tang of the sea stung her nostrils as the captain of the small vessel expertly navigated the tricky area.  Rocks jutted up from the ocean floor, and in some places, the cliffs narrowed dangerously.  She shuddered nervously as she felt the rock wall grind against the fibreglass hull of the boat.  She certainly hoped the stoic man knew what he was doing. 

“We are almost there,” he said with a thick Norwegian accent.  “Not much longer now.” 

Rachel smiled and walked to the cabin to grab her belongings.   She brought out a large blue rucksack that had a bedroll tied to the bottom of it.   She hefted it to her shoulders and looked at the captain.  “Thank you so much for the ferry out here.  I heard that this island was pretty spectacular.”

The fisherman smiled at her with a twinkle in his eye.  “You have no idea.  It is almost like it came from a fairy tale.  Some say, it’s where the Gods came to drink with the giant Aegir.  Not many people know it exists.  How did you find out?”

“I have my ways.” She gave him a wink. 

The fisherman laughed.  “Well, you’re lucky the tide is in, I can get you closer to shore, but you might have to wade a bit of the way.  It’s mostly pebbles and rocks so you won’t have to worry about getting sucked into the mud.”

Rachel nodded; glad she remembered to bring her own oilskin hip waders.  She was a freelance photographer and wanted to capture this remote island on film.  She hoped she could sell the photo essay to National Geographic for a pretty penny.  Who knows, she might even discover some undocumented wildlife since the island was so remote.

The boat slowed as they banked around a rocky wall.  As they rounded the granite cliff,  there was the island.

The fjord walls were only around ten feet from the shores of the small, oblong island, and due to the narrow passages, the sea rushed through as swift as any river.   The small land mass was roughly fifteen kilometers long from tip to tip, and approximately three kilometers wide.  It was big enough to completely block the fjord without impeding the water flow around it.  It was densely wooded with coniferous trees, and in the distance, she saw a jagged peak of rock poking out from the dense woods.    The sun beamed down from above the looming cliffs illuminating the isolated island.

“Now, there’s not much fresh water on there,” the old fisherman said.  “You’ll have to figure out how to get more if the stuff you bring runs out before I come get you. The sun doesn’t shine here for more than a couple of hours a day in the summer so distilling from the ocean won’t work.”

“Gotcha,” Rachel replied, as she shifted the weight of her heavy pack.  She was used to rugged survival activities.  She had travelled all over the world in search of her next big project, so roughing it alone wasn’t something she was new at.  Under her warm clothes, her five foot seven inch frame was lean and muscular.  Her perky C-cup breasts were usually confined to a snug sports bra for comfort due to her active lifestyle. 

She looked like a modern day Valkyrie.  She was strong of jaw, fine high cheekbones, and eyes as blue as an iceberg.  “You know, I mighta been born in Bangor, Maine, but my family comes from Norway.”

“I can tell,” the fisherman said appreciatively.  He might be old, but he wasn’t immune to beauty when he saw it.  “You remind me of my first wife. Tall, independent, strong woman.” A bit of sorrow creased his weathered face.  “She died a while ago.  We had two kids, twins, a boy and a girl.  They moved on, but...”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Rachel said, at a loss for words at this sudden revelation from a stranger.

“It’s okay, I married again, girl from the mountains.  We never could agree where to live, so we see each other every so often.  It’s better for my sanity.”

She pulled her camera from its waterproof bag and brought it to her face.  She played around with the lens, bringing it into focus and she snapped a few shots as the boat slowly approached the shallow shoal near the island.  The boat shuddered as it neared bottoming out on the rocky bottom of the fjord.

“And this is where you get off, miss,” the grizzled fisherman said gruffly as he rolled a rope ladder down the white fibreglass side of his vessel. “If I get any closer I’ll tear the bottom out of my boat.” 

Rachel put her camera away as the boat came grinding to a halt.  She noticed the depth of the water and removed her rucksack.  She couldn’t wear it without her bedroll getting wet.  She swung her leg over the side of the boat and began to descend the ladder. “I never did get your name.”

“My name isn’t important.  Just be here in three days time when I come get you.” The man said, handing her the rucksack as she splashed into the hip-deep brine.

She was grateful she wore the fleece-lined waders over her rugged jeans as she felt the bite of the icy cold water seep the oilskin.  She held her rucksack over her head to prevent her bedroll from getting wet. Even though it was rolled up in a waterproof tarp, she didn’t want to risk the seepage.   She trudged towards the rocky shore, feeling the gravel grind under her boots as she slogged through the unusually icy water.  Spring had barely shown her face in the northern Norwegian wilderness, despite it being mid April. 

After five minutes of wading, Rachel finally made it to shore.  She turned around to wave off the fisherman to find he was no longer there.  Strange, she thought to herself, she didn’t hear the thrum of the engine as it reversed out of the area.  Rachel shrugged it off and moved further inland to establish a small camp.  She found a small clearing, bordering the woods and the rocky beach, that was a perfect spot.

She set about the mundane tasks that would ensure her survival during the three days she would be residing on the small, deserted island.   She dug a small trench near the forest and laid some fallen pine branches in the trench then unrolled her bedroll on top of the trench.   She watched her sleeping bag and tarp sink into the trench and settle on the pine branches which were there to drain moisture away from her sleeping area, as well as give a pleasant, comforting scent. 

She dug out her fire pit and lined it with large rocks she’d found around the beach.  She then surrounded it with larger rocks, to form a proper ring to set food on to cook.   She kept puttering around her campsite, oblivious to the large, white grizzly bear that had been watching her from behind the trunk of a large yew tree.

Rachel tied her long blonde hair back from her fine face.  The windy trip had whipped it out of her loose ponytail and she had to put it back before she lit the fire, she didn’t want it catching by accident. She flicked her wind proof lighter and held a piece of scrap paper up to the blue, butane flame.  The paper caught and she put it against the kindling.  Due to the surrounding cliffs, the wind was minimal, and the fire caught easily.

The bear turned around and slunk back into the heavy forest.  The scent of the woman who landed on his island intrigued him.  She might be fit for what he had planned.  He ambled towards his cave, content that the intruder wasn’t harmful to his island or his existence.  He would, however keep a close eye on her while she was there. 

The bear approached the big jagged rock that poked out of the tree line and walked around its wide base until he found the root covered entrance to his cave.  He followed the wet ground downwards as he made his way down to his burrow.  He knew that the cave network he inhabited extended further than the little den he had made for himself, but he chose not to explore too much, just in case he found more trouble than he could handle.  He was happy on his little rock, anyway.  With that, the bear curled up and went to sleep.

*

The morning dawned in a haze of sea-borne mist that hugged the island.  Rachel got out of her sleeping bag and stretched her body. Her thermal underwear hugged her curvy figure as she walked to the banked campfire to stoke it back to life.   While she waited for the fire to catch on the chunk of driftwood she tossed on it, she grabbed her camera and took numerous photographs of the area that was shrouded in fog.    She wondered what kind of wildlife the island was home to, as she walked back to the fire to brew herself some coffee in her portable French Press.  She rummaged around in her rucksack for a protein bar to eat, and found one.  She devoured the camp food, got dressed, and proceeded to venture out of her modest campsite.

Rachel began to explore the dense coniferous woods that made up most of the island.  She picked her way delicately through the virgin forest where very few, if any, people had ever set foot before.  There was no real path for her to pick her way down, so she navigated the dense underbrush as best as she could without getting hurt.

She heard a rustle come from a thick bunch of small juniper bushes off to her right.  She readied her camera, hoping to catch whatever denizen emerged from the fragrant bushes.  Rachel stood ramrod still with her camera up to her face, poised for the perfect shot of some small animal that had never been seen before by man.

The rustling got more intense as the woodland creature began to emerge from the lower boughs of the juniper bushes.  Rachel tried not to start as the whiskered nose of a hare poked out of its cover.  She snapped away rapidly as the tawny hare emerged cautiously, its nose twitching back and forth as it took in the scent of the new intruder. 

Suddenly, there was a whir of fur and blood as the poor hare was preyed upon by a large weasel. Kim kept snapping her photographs as the predator took down its meal.  The hare cried out in fear, the infant-like sounds tugged at Rachel’s dormant maternal instincts as she sat back and let nature take its course.

She couldn’t recognize the weasel.  It was as large as a badger, but not colored in the same way.  It wasn’t a fisher, those were much smaller.  The small beast looked back at her and snarled as it dragged its prey away, as if warning her that this meal was his and to stay away. 

Rachel sat back on her heels after the intense encounter between predator and prey and took a deep breath.  She managed to capture it all on her SD card.  Luckily, she managed to pick up the largest storage size card she could find.  This place was a hidden treasure for a freelance nature photographer.

She looked up as she heard the strong beat of wings overhead.  A large black raven swooped and perched on a branch.   Rachel snapped a few pictures of the scavenger while it peered down at her with its inquisitive eyes.  The bird let out a throaty croak as it flew off in pursuit of the weasel, probably in hopes of getting a piece of the hare before the gluttonous beast devoured it all.  Rachel looked around in awe at the large coniferous trees that loomed around her.  Each tree grew tall to compete for the scarce sunlight that graced the small island.

Rachel carefully picked her way deeper into the forest.  She snapped pictures of whatever caught her eye. She put the macro lens on her camera and took a picture of a vivid red spider sitting on a dew-covered web that was strung between two large yew trees.   The large gem-like arachnid fascinated her.  She spent a few extra minutes documenting where she found it in the forest and the conditions, in case it happened to be an undiscovered species.

While she was busy jotting down the notes, a large black shape slunk closer and closer through the dense underbrush.  The large hairy shape crept closer to its potential prey, completely unaware of its presence behind her. 

Suddenly, Rachel heard a snap of a twig and looked around.  She turned to see the shaggy head of the largest wolf she had ever laid eyes on in her entire life.  The beast was at least three feet tall at the shoulders.  Its baleful yellow eyes were the size of quarters, and its black muzzle was curled in a snarl as it revealed large sharp teeth, ready to rip her tender white throat out with one bite. 

Rachel dropped her camera and bolted through the woods in a vain attempt to escape the massive predator.  All she could think of was that there was a real live, dire wolf after her and she was about to be its dinner. But she thought
, it’s impossible, dire wolves are extinct.
But she leaped over fallen rotting logs as this dire wolf easily pursued her.  She knew that where there was one huge wolf, there were plenty more waiting in the wings to come to the chase.  Her heart pounded in her chest and her lungs burned with the exhaustion as the adrenaline fueled her muscular body through the forest, away from the predator that kept up the chase, almost gleefully.  The wolf’s tongue lolled out of its muzzle in almost a wolfish grin.