Chapter 13

Willow gasped as the big guy from the restaurant manhandled the police shield in front of the fire hydrant. The force of the stream of water hit the shield and it was clear to Willow that, no matter how big he was, he should have been shot backwards, but instead he dug his feet in to the ground and leaned forward against the flow, directing it where he wanted it to go, directly at the fully-engulfed car. The flames danced higher for a moment, then began to ebb and hiss as the water beat them back.

Willow could only stare at the most beautiful example of brawn and masculine strength she’d ever seen in her life. She crossed her legs and knotted her fingers together as inappropriate impulses shot through her mind. She wanted him to pick her up over his head and bring her down onto his face, where she would wrap her thighs around his ears…

Someone screamed and the crowd responded with louder murmurs, pulling Willow’s thoughts back to reality. Her day was only getting stranger. She looked at the people gathering outside the restaurant, determined no one was hurt, then marshaled her thoughts appropriately and directed them to lightly dance back over everything that had just happened.

She had been in the car with Soroush and he’d told her that he was a wolf.

“I’m not an angel, I'm a wolf.”

Willow stared at him, unable to think of a response to that. A wolf? They’d driven in silence for several minutes, then pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. A meatball. She’d heard of this place, driven past it, never had any desire to go in. But now, here she was.

He turned off the car, his silence as awkward as ever, then shook his head and frowned sourly. “I don't know why I said that. I'm a person, obviously.”

Willow nodded, “Right, a person.” It seemed the only thing to say. She stared at her feet and thought about asking him to take her back home. He had to realize things weren’t going well already. Maybe it was her fault. She was distracted. She’d peeked into his mind and what she’d found was strange. Too strange.

Soroush got out of the car, and so did Willow, still thinking about calling off the date. But Willow had felt eyes on her and looked over her shoulder.

He’d been there. The big guy from her restaurant, but with him had been another man and… Rogue!

Soroush must've felt eyes on him also, he turned and saw them, then looked at Willow, his face panicked. He said something to her in a pained voice, she thought it was, “Sorry,” when two large black wolves— they were too big to be anything but wolves— had run towards him, teeth bared, ears back.

In that moment a thought-form had shot out of Soroush, a purple streaming glut of information. She quickly learned his name was actually Soren and he wasn't a wolf, or an angel, he was a fox. And a monster.

Willow shook her head. None of that made any sense.

Before she’d had time to think about it, an explosion had blasted her eardrums, throwing her to the pavement and then she had been picked up by that guy the second time. Bruin. His name was Bruin and she loved it. She’d never heard it before but it fit him so well. He had brought her over here to this bench and sat her down and now he was performing a feat that should have been impossible. She stared at him, burning his image into her mind, his muscles straining, his dark clothes getting wet, clinging to his body. His dimples, and how they appeared both when he smiled, and when his expression was bent with effort, like it was now.

She wrapped the image up neatly and stored it in the back of her mind, intending to retrieve it that night when she was alone in her bed.

He glanced at her as if checking to make sure she was okay, and she blushed and dropped her eyes. If he knew what she was thinking…

The fire was out. Bruin dropped the shield and picked up his hydrant wrench to turn off the flow of water. He shook the water out of his hair like a dog, spraying drops into the air. People began to stream toward him from the restaurant.

He held up his hands, his voice booming. “No, stay back, this is still a dangerous scene. Do not come any closer.”

They obeyed and Willow imagined him ordering her to do something with that rough, deep voice. To lay down maybe. Take off her clothes. She dropped her eyes and played with the pattern on her skirt, her face burning hotter than the car had.

When she looked up again, he was headed her way, looking massive and in charge. She adjusted her skirt, smoothed down her hair. Sirens sounded from down the road, making Bruin stop and raise his head, then head back to the burnt car as first police cars and then a fire truck pulled into the parking lot, turning off their sirens with a flick of a switch.

Two uniformed patrol officers approached him first, and he pointed over the hill the way Soren had run and the others had followed. The police officers ran that way.

Then he explained to the firefighters what had happened to the car, his big arms moving as he gestured widely. Some people from the restaurant began to get in their own cars and drive away, the ones who weren’t blocked in by the emergency vehicles. Others went back into the restaurant, while a few stayed on the steps to watch.

Bruin dropped his tools in the back of a big, white pickup truck and headed toward her. Willow swallowed, her tongue suddenly thick and her stomach flopsy.

He wasn't close enough yet for her to get a good read on him and did she want to? There was something about him, something different, something special. He could mean something to her, so maybe she didn't want to mess that up by digging around in his mind, if possible. She mustered up a block and stared at him unable to help the smile that came to her face.

He stopped in front of her, his big body blocking the sun. He opened his mouth, closed it again, opened it again, seeming to search for words to say.

Willow stood, feeling shy. “That was really amazing what you did. My name is Willow.”

He grinned then and spoke in a rush, making no more sense than Soroush-Soren had. “I am not a bear. I weigh less than 300 pounds. I am well-liked and respected by my peers. I hate honey, can't stand the stuff, and I didn’t know your name until just now.”

He ticked off the statements on his fingers as he said them, as if he was trying to reach a certain number. When he hit five, he dropped his hand and grinned at her, a completely open and adorable grin that made her heart beat faster.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and raised his shoulders slightly. “Hi,” he said, as if he hadn't spoken before. “I'm Bruin.” His eyes searched her face and her body for cuts or bruises or blood. “Are you certain you aren’t hurt?”

Willow brushed at her arms, feeling his eyes travel over her body, but in a practical way. “No, I'm fine. I was surprised by the explosion.”

He nodded. “We all were.” He looked around, his face solemn. “I should ... I should take you home. Can I take you home?”

Willow nodded.

His grin widened and he stepped forward, then put an arm around her and leaned down to put another under her knees, and before she knew it she was in his arms again.

She chuckled. “I can walk.”

He shook his head. “No,” he said, stumbling over his words. “You can't. I mean… I know you can walk but you shouldn't.”

She giggled again at the absurdity of it all. “I shouldn't walk?”

He frowned slightly, looking impossibly adorable. “You shouldn't have to.”

Willow couldn't figure him out and she couldn't think of anything to do but repeat what he had said. “I shouldn't have to walk?”

Bruin shook his head and blushed, making him look even more adorable and sexy if that was possible.

She put a hand on his chest. “I'll tell you what. Is that truck yours?”

He nodded.

“Ok. Put me down and I’ll walk over there. You can open the door for me and take me home.”

“Deal.” He put her down but kind of hovered over her as she walked, like if she stumbled, he was going to sweep her up in his arms again. She liked it.

They made it to the truck and he opened the door and held out a hand for her climb up with. She slid in and fastened her seatbelt. He didn't move until she was done and she had tucked her skirt and her feet into the passenger space, then he shut the door and ran around to his seat and before she knew it, they were on their way down the road.

“I live behind the Honey Depot,” she said.

He nodded like he knew that.

She laughed. “Yeah. We just met in the hallway. You picked me up there too.”

He grinned and laughed a bit, the sound a low rumble that had her insides going gummy.

She looked at him, suddenly curious. “So how did you end up here?”

He frowned, then looked at her, then looked back at the road, his eyes hooded. “I cannot tell you a lie. I already told you five. We followed you, me and my friends.”

She was shocked, but really, it was the only thing that made sense. “Why?”

His mouth opened and he blurted out four words. “Because I love you.”

Willow gasped again and covered her mouth with her hand. She had never imagined anyone could be quite so open and honest with their feelings, or that this man could feel that way about her. Did he really? She stared at his face, and although it reddened a bit, he was nodding. A thought-form appeared around him, the color of deep amber, the viscosity of honey. She’d never seen one quite so well formed before. Usually they were wispy things, transparent and smoky.

She peeked at it. She was helpless not to.

He was embarrassed by the way he had said it and scared because he knew she could not feel the same way about him that he did about her, but he could not keep his thoughts to himself just the same.

He did think that he loved her and overlaid over her image in his mind was one huge word that twirled and danced and shifted to say first exquisite, then beautiful. That was how he thought of her. Being in his thought-form was intense and all-consuming, and she'd never quite encountered a thought so single-minded and strong before.

She flushed, flattered and overwhelmed. His presence was just as strong as Soren's had been, but there was no confliction in it. He was all strong, soft, polite, and gentle at the same time, and all his thoughts and feelings headed the same way, with no detours, no circling, just a solid beam of thought that went on and on in the same direction forever. She liked it. His mind was a warm and soothing place to visit, like when she peeked at it, she was really sinking down in front of her own fireplace on a cold winter’s night, with hot cocoa in a mug, a book in her hand, and Annie Lennox on the radio. She’d never experienced thoughts like his.

She let go of the thought-form and pulled back, putting up her block again, not wanting to intrude on him anymore.

She couldn’t think of one thing to say. She stayed in herself, trying not to take anything from Bruin, but still she could feel his presence in a way that warmed her to her toes. His energy was bigger than his body, whirling slowly in patient eddies that softened everything they touched, including her.

Too soon, they were back at the Honey Depot. “Right there,” she stammered, indicating the driveway that led behind the restaurant. “My house is up there.” Even with Bruin’s energy working to calm her, she was thrown. She thought she should want answers, but she didn’t think she could handle them. Not in her current state. Had she been hoping for excitement? She’d been a fool, then. She didn’t know why those people had chased Soren, but she was pretty sure the guy with the hard face and the crew cut had been a cop and those dogs with him had been wolves and Bruin had been with them, too, and why had the car exploded, and who exactly was this savior who had followed her from her restaurant to a place where she’d very definitely needed saving. It didn’t seem right to demand answers from Bruin, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted them anyway. Not right now.

Bruin turned in the driveway quickly and parked near the house. He slammed the truck in park and turned off the engine, jumping out and running around to open her door before she realized what was happening. He put his hands around her waist to help her down, then watched her expectantly, waiting for her to say… something.

She nodded towards the house, overwhelm settling in fast. “I should…”

He nodded. “Right.” He stepped out of her way so she could head to her door. He fell into step next to her and followed her up the stairs, still hovering, still waiting for her to trip or something. His silence was not awkward but rather comfortable and comforting, like his thoughts and self had been. She sensed not so much a lack of animosity and an inappropriate interest toward her, like she’d felt with Soren, but rather a complete auspice of protection. Like he would die to protect her without a second thought.

Again, she liked it. “Are you a cop?” she asked.

He shook his head and his face fell, like he rather wished that he was. “No, a fi-” He stopped. “I guess I’m between jobs at the moment.”

She had so many things she wanted to ask. How did he know Rogue? Why had she and the man and the dogs (they couldn’t be wolves – now that things were quiet and she was at her home, she realized that) chased Soren over the hill? Did he know Soren? What was going on? Instead of asking any of them, she stepped in front of her door and turned to him, waiting for him to tell her something. Anything.

He looked down at her, a small smile on his face, complete contentment in his expression. Like as long as she let him stand there, he would be the happiest person on earth. He didn’t need anything else.

Exhaustion settled on her heavily. She just needed some time. “Bruin, can I get your phone number?”

He nodded eagerly, whipping something out of a side pocket of his pants and holding it out to her. A business card. She took it and read the one word on it.

Bruin

Then a phone number.

She didn't know what else to do so she stuck out her right hand to shake his, but he took her small hand gently in both of his big ones and pulled it to his mouth and pressed a gentle kiss to it.

His face tightened while he did so, and his eyes fluttered wildly, like he was caught in a waking dream. The amber thought-form she’d been trying to ignore pulsed and widened, streaming out from him even stronger. In it, was a line of lumberjack-sized men, one behind the other, waiting for their turn at something. They didn’t jostle or talk, they only stood, their faces straight ahead, their expressions broken, like they were waiting to enter Hell, or leave it.

Willow frowned, because there was no emotion attached to the scene she was seeing. Which made no sense. She’d never seen a memory without emotion attached to it in anyone, ever.

“Right. Ok,” she said, unsettled. She pulled gently at her hand. Bruin let her go and she slipped inside her door, closing it, then stepping to the side and leaning against the wall, breathing hard for several moments, hoping her mother was out with the bees or maybe at the restaurant. She needed some time by herself, needed to work on her blocks and sort through everything that had happened, figure out what belonged to her, what belonged to Bruin, what belonged to Soren, and what belonged to the crowd back there. What thoughts could she leave behind, lighten up on, let go of, so that she felt normal again.

Twenty minutes later, when she was well enough to walk, she gathered herself, pushed away from the wall, and peeked out her front door. Bruin’s truck was still in her driveway. She could just make him out behind the wheel, staring at her house, his entire aura one of protection.

Bruin was watching over her.