Chapter Twenty-One
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Cold Creek, North Cascades Territory – Beltane’s full moon
Mother’s blessing, but why wouldn’t it stop? By the God, she’d never felt desire so strongly before. Not since her first time. Tears streamed down Emma’s cheeks as she staggered down the trail toward Cold Creek. She had no choice. Every nerve in her body screamed with the need to mate. The full moon heat boiling in her veins was driving her down the mountain to where there were males.
With every step, pain stabbed deep into her right leg. Her leg brace was on the trail somewhere near the tavern, and she had no cane.
Four legs would be better than two, but with moonrise, lust had bloomed in her blood, and her body had shifted to human. She hadn’t been able to trawsfur back to bear.
Shifters mated as humans; under the full moon, her body would stay human.
She glanced up. The night was clear. The silvery moon had lowered only an infinitesimal amount since her last look. Moonset was hours away.
Even if she even managed to reach Cold Creek, she might not have a leg left. Already she’d fallen several times, narrowly avoiding breaking her still fragile bones.
Would anyone search for her? Loneliness welled up and shattered her awareness. She stumbled and fell, catching herself on her hands and undamaged knee. At the impact, her injured leg blazed with new pain as if she’d shoved it into a meat grinder.
Ow, ow, ow.
Head hanging, she tried to rise, but after the day of fleeing from her past and hours of stumbling back toward Cold Creek, her strength was gone. Yet the full moon heat towed her along like a fast-moving current. Why was it so much worse than before?
The sound of a four-legged animal on the path brought her head up. Not good. It was big enough to rustle the brush on both sides of the trail and coming fast. She sniffed the air, but the wind was from the wrong direction—and undoubtedly had carried her scent right to the animal.
She struggled to stand and failed. Heart pounding, she closed her hand around a fallen branch.
The animal burst into sight. A massive grizzly bear, more than double the size of her bear form.
Her mouth went dry. Don’t move.
The bear’s mouth opened to display terrifying fangs.
Oh, she knew how much those would hurt. A shiver ran through her.
As the moonlight shone on the grizzly’s silvered outer coat, she caught its wild scent…accompanied by a familiar, heady, masculine fragrance.
“Ben?” she whispered.
The bear rose to its hind legs, and the terrifying sound of angered grizzly filled the air and echoed from the peaks.
Her muscles turned to water, and she dug her fingers into the pine needles and dirt to keep from collapsing.
Then he shifted. Yes, it was Ben, and he was furious.
He stalked over to stand above her, as huge a male as he was a bear, his face dark with anger. “By the God, I should spank your ass the way my father thrashed mine. What kind of a stupid—”
“Thank you for coming after me.” It was Ben. Her Ben. She blinked back tears. “I thought I’d die here.”
His mouth closed. The slow, deliberate breath through his nose made his broad chest expand. After studying her for a drawn-out minute, he squatted in front of her.
“How badly are you hurt?” His Texas accent was thicker than usual, but his rumbling voice was level and controlled. Ben’s temper was a fast-moving thunderstorm, one that shook the windows and moved on.
She sagged with relief. “Not bad. I’m mostly exhausted.”
He made a disbelieving sound.
“Well, when the moon rose, I couldn’t stay in bear form.” She bit her lip and admitted, “So my leg hurts.”
“I bet.” He ran his hand down her right lower leg and pressed to assess the injured bone.
A mew of pain escaped her.
“Donal would be pissed if you busted the bones again. You don’t want him yelling, do you?”
The silver-eyed healer was scary. She shook her head emphatically.
Ben’s laugh was deep and masculine.
As she stared up at him, the ache in her leg disappeared under a new throbbing, one located right between her legs. Her breasts swelled and ached. The night air brushed cool against her suddenly sensitive skin.
Naked skin.
When Ben started to release her leg, her hand was right there, pressing on top of his, keeping his warm, callused palm on her.
He blinked, then his eyes narrowed before his fingers curled around her calf and caressed.
Everything in her melted at his measured touch. At the strength in his grip.
“Ah, like that, is it?” he said softly.
Her mouth was so dry she couldn’t swallow. Her lips tingled.
His intent gaze trapped hers, immobilizing her as he lifted her hand toward his face…and inhaled.
There was no disguising the scent of an interested female. He would know how much she wanted him.
“Li’l bard.” His voice lowered to a growl. “Unless you send me away right now, I’m going to take you.”
By the Mother, what control he had to be able to walk away from a female in heat. A female he wanted—for the scent of his hunger tinged the air she breathed. But he was giving her the choice.
How could she not want him? She loved him, had desired him forever. Had almost lost him to a hellhound.
“Stay,” she whispered. She ran her free hand over his corded forearm. He was a cahir, more powerful than other males, and his muscles were pumped from the run up the mountain. She yearned to run her hands and tongue over those ridges and valleys. To touch him everywhere. “Please.”
“All right, honey bear.” His eyes never left hers as he curved a hand around her nape and held her. His mouth was skilled, his lips firm, his tongue demanding, and he kissed her ruthlessly until every drop of blood in her body sparkled.
A surge of desperation made her moan.
He chuckled. “Easy, darlin’, I’ll get right to that…soon.” To her frustration, he rose, looked around, and scooped her off the ground.
Why did he keep carrying her? “I’m too big. Put me down.”
“You’re not more than a mite.” He walked off the trail and down a tree-covered slope toward the sound of water. The forest opened into a moonlit meadow of softly flattened winter grass bisected by a rushing creek.
He laid her down in the cool grass. For an eternity, he towered above her, looking down as the moon bathed her in light. Under his smoldering gaze, she felt…beautiful.
“I’ve wanted you for a long time, li’l bear,” he said softly. Down on one knee, he cupped her face, brushed his thumb over her lower lip. “Do you have any idea how magnificent you are?”
His gentle touch and quiet words shook her, breaking through her need, and she could only stare at him, unable to breathe. Even the pain in her leg had faded to a low simmer under the roar of her need.
With care, he lowered himself and covered her body, settling between her open legs. His furnace-like warmth seeped into her, adding to the fire in her blood. Her lower half throbbed with her pulse, and the demand raged hotter when his rigid shaft pressed against her lower abdomen.
As he took her lips again, he cupped one breast, his thumb circling the nipple. He tugged lightly on the peak, and lightning sizzled right to her clitoris.
Her back arched, forcing her breast into his palm.
“That’s the way, li’l bear,” he murmured. Slowly, he kissed along her jaw, beneath it, and down her neck. His day’s growth of beard scraped her sensitized skin, sending sparks of craving in its wake.
Breathless, she gripped his rock-hard biceps. The way his wide shoulders blocked the entire sky sent her brain into shutdown. Ben. Her voice didn’t work—thank goodness—or she’d be blurting out protestations of love.
Nothing worked except her desperately yearning body. Her hips ground against his heavy erection.
“Nope, my female. You’ll have what you need…when I decide.” Taking her wrists in one enormous hand, he lifted them over her head. Her futile struggles made him grin before he slid down far enough to take a nipple in his mouth.
“Oooooh.” His mouth was so hot, so wet. His tongue rasped in teasing flicks over one jutting nub and the other, circling each areola until her breasts swelled and throbbed.
His teeth closed over one nipple, bearing down to the very edge of pain, to an excruciating, spiking pleasure.
Her blood boiled and raged with need. “Please…”
“Soon, darlin’.” Releasing her wrists, he moved down her body. Inch by inch, he tasted her skin. He teased her with scrapes of his stubbled chin, a nip to her waist, a lick up the crease between her thigh and pussy.
Purposeful. Methodical. Until her skin hummed with pleasure, anticipating every touch of his mouth. Her muscles tensed as he neared his goal.
Please, please, please.
His warm breath touched her clit—a glorious warning—and his mouth closed over the swollen nub.
The ferocious pleasure sent fireworks into the night sky. Her hips bucked wildly.
He huffed a laugh and laid his muscular forearm over her lower abdomen, forcing her to lie still.
To take what he wanted to give.
“No.” She actually whined. “No, please. I need—”
His tongue went to work, driving every thought from her brain except the feeling of the heat and wet, the probing, rubbing motions, the circles. A gentle suck turned her brainless, and then he flicked the clit hood back and forth. Teasing.
All the blood in her body rushed to her core, swelling her pussy to a thrumming tightness.
He sucked harder, lashing the tip with his tongue. His callused finger slowly traced a circle around her entrance. She was slick with need, and he penetrated her easily. His blunt finger pressed deeper, stretching her in a way she hadn’t felt since…since her last Gathering.
She shuddered with the memory.
Lifting his head, he studied her, eyes intent. “Does this bother you, honey bear?” He asked softly, even as he pulled back his finger and ever so slowly pressed in again.
The wonder of his controlled gentleness, of his care, melted the earth right out from under her.
“Darlin’?” His gruff voice sent more sensations consuming her.
Her only answer was a futile attempt to tilt her hips.
The laugh lines beside his eyes crinkled. “All right then.” He lowered his head, and his lips closed again around her clit, pulling lightly, even as his finger slid deeper.
Her seething tension grew and grew, boiling away thoughts and words, and any sensation beyond sheer need. He slowly thrust in and out, adding another finger, even as he sucked her clit, his tongue lashing at it.
With a feeling of inevitability, everything within her drew together like the center of a tornado, then exploded outward, whirling pleasure along the terrain and through all the rivers of her body. Her cries were still ringing off the mountain heights when he moved up her body, positioned himself, and slowly, steadily filled her.
Then he stopped.
His shaft was thick, so very thick, and long, and hot… Her neck arched as another climax roared through her.
“Hang on tight, little bard.” His voice was harsh. A muscle flexed in his jaw.
Her world still spinning, she gripped his shoulders. Under her fingers, his muscles bunched to granite as he pulled back and powered in again, deeper.
So much deeper.
He was enormous, filling her almost unbearably full. And yet the feeling was so thrillingly carnal she could only hang on as he increased the pace to a relentless hammering. Her own pulse sang in her ears, filling her world as she came and came again.
Finally, with a guttural roar, he thrust deep, completely to the root.
And froze.
Seconds passed. He seemed elsewhere.
“Ben?”
His gaze met hers and intensified until it penetrated deep enough to touch her mind. Her heart.
“Been a while, li’l bear.” His lips curved. He slid his hand under her ass to pull her against him as his cock pulsed inside her.
Filling her.
Satisfying her demands in a way nothing else could.
Her core blossomed with delight, with the reception of his seed, and her whole body shimmered with physical joy.
His fingers slowly opened, freeing her. As he came down on her, she exulted in his heavy possessive weight. Oh, I love you, love you, love you.
Lifting up on one forearm, he nuzzled her neck. “Thank you for your trust, honey bear.”
Who wouldn’t trust this male? “Mmm.” Unable to resist, she kissed his cheek, inhaling the masculine scent. So wonderful.
Needing more, she held his face between her palms and kissed him tenderly. Once he knew about her past, he might turn away, but for now? Now he was all hers.
He cooperated, then took control, driving every thought from her mind as her body recovered and demanded more.
A happy, four-more-orgasms time later, she realized the sizzle in her blood had waned. Slightly.
Raising her head, she looked over his shoulder. The moon was markedly lower.
He followed her gaze. “Time we got moving. Ryder’s worried about you, as are a lot of other people. Think you can shift now?”
She breathed out a sigh. Yes, it was time to face her past. She had courage—she did—even if it occasionally got misplaced for a bit. “Yes. Let’s go.”
*
Predawn mist shrouded the evergreen branches and swirled around the tree trunks. After getting a cup of coffee—bless Vicki for brewing it strong—Ryder staked out a spot near the trail Ben had taken.
When they’d arrived, Bree had taken them up the trail to where Emma had discarded her clothing. Fear scent had permeated the fabric. Ben had stripped and shifted to track the little bear.
What the hell made Emma run? Ryder’s worry had grown with each passing hour.
The moon was nearly down, and shifters were wandering back into the clearing to warm up before breakfast. The light from the bonfires showed females with cheeks reddened from beard-stubble, swollen lips, and mussed hair. Many shirtless males had bite and scratch marks over their shoulders, backs, and chests.
Beltane was a fun time for most.
Ryder had performed dutifully—the Goddess required no less—but without enjoyment. He hadn’t been able to stop worrying about Emma and had spent most of the night at the trailhead. Her female friends had joined him off and on. They’d been full of questions, wondering where she was. Why she’d left without any word.
Damned good questions.
Around midnight, Calum had stood beside him, his gaze on the trail. Ryder had started to ask if he could locate Emma. But when a Cosantir’s eyes darkened to the color of night, no shifter with a love of life would interrupt.
After a minute, Calum had looked at Ryder and said he wanted to see Emma as soon as she returned.
By the God, his request had sounded ominous.
Leaning his head against the tree trunk, Ryder watched the shifters in the clearing. Getting water. Resting. Talking. A few males still clustered around accommodating females, obviously hoping for another quick mating. Vicki, Bree, and a few others were preparing the breakfast feast. Shay and Zeb were building up the Belfires again.
A shrill laugh caught Ryder’s attention. He tensed and turned.
Genevieve. Still here in Cold Creek. She wouldn’t stop until she got money…and probably revenge, as well. No one who dared to reject her escaped unscathed.
Dressed in a skintight leather skirt and low-cut tank top, she stood next to Sarah and a wolf named Candice, and two females Ryder didn’t know. From the glances cast in his direction, Genevieve was ripping apart his reputation.
How did an honorable male combat something as elusive as gossip? If Genevieve were male, he’d use his fists or claws. But males didn’t hurt females. Ever.
Frustration simmered in his gut.
A minute later, the rustle of brush on the trail caught his attention. Ben appeared. Emma walked slowly beside him, using his arm as a crutch.
The rush of relief swept Ryder’s weariness aside. He set his coffee down and rose.
Seeing him, Ben lifted his chin. “Hey, bro.”
The two were dressed in the clothing they’d left beside the trail. Scratches and scabs tattooed Emma’s face and arms as if she’d torn headlong through blackberry tangles. And fallen. Often. Despite the brace on her leg, she limped badly.
Dammit, Emma.
But she’d returned to them and relatively unharmed, thank the Goddess. With a start, Ryder recalled the Cosantir. A warning was in order. “Emma, the Cosan—”
“Emma,” Calum interrupted in a deep, icy voice. He stood between the Belfires, arms crossed over his chest.
Emma could see the Cosantir’s austere expression in the light of the flames. Even as her heart sank, fear chilled her blood. The guardian of a territory held the power of life and death, received directly from Herne’s hands.
Gawain must have told him about the Gathering in Pine Knoll.
Straightening her shoulders, she started toward him before realizing Ben was beside her, still serving as her support. Stupid Emma. “Ben, he’s angry. Stay back.”
He caught her arm before she could step away. “Nope.” Although worry had driven the laughter from his eyes, he set his hand over hers, trapped her fingers on his arm, and continued forward. Stubborn, stubborn bear.
To her dismay, she realized Ryder walked on her other side. He put his arm around her waist. How could she possibly risk him—both of them?
Ryder’s implacable gaze said she might as well save her words.
When she tried to stop, Ben tugged her along as if she’d been Minette’s size.
Bracketed between the brothers, she approached Calum. “Did you want to speak with me, Cosantir?”
“Aye, Emma.” He studied her silently. His gaze took in her scratched face, scraped hands. Her injured leg was so swollen Ben had needed to loosen the brace. “I gave you a home in this territory. In this clan.”
Her mouth went dry. “I’m grateful,” she whispered.
“Yet you defied our laws, running away from a Gathering—the tradition that has kept the Daonain alive for these many generations.” The softness of his words only emphasized his wrath.
“Cosantir, I—”
“Each individual in our race must play a part to keep our people from a slow death. You know this, bard.”
“I do,” she whispered. Her heart pounded so violently against her ribcage she couldn’t breathe. Would he banish her again? Now, when she’d just found a home? She’d be alone once more, never to speak with another shifter, to touch another.
She swallowed down the nausea and managed—barely—to meet his black, black eyes. “Please forgive me, Cosantir. I panicked. I panicked and ran. From someone—not from the Gathering.” When he didn’t move, she offered, “I was trying to return. I just couldn’t move very fast.”
The darkness receded from his gaze. “I know. Your efforts to return are why this is only a warning.”
He knew? Of course he did. A Cosantir could locate any shifter in his territory. He probably knew right where she’d turned and started back toward Cold Creek.
The Cosantir inclined his head and released her from his gaze.
Her knees buckled, and only Ben’s strong hand under her arm held her upright.
“Come, little bear. You need something to drink,” Ryder said.
“Oh, that’s a superb idea,” she whispered. Her throat was so dry she might never be able to swallow again. And still, the moon’s influence started to bubble in her blood, making her far too aware of the warmth of Ryder’s hand in the hollow of her back. Of how tall he was beside her. Of how a night’s beard growth shadowed his jaw.
And of how concern darkened his eyes.
“Ben, got a second?” Joe Thorson stopped him.
“Ah…” Ben gave her a concerned look.
“I’ll get her fed, bro,” Ryder said. “Don’t worry.”
As she continued beside Ryder toward the tables, a lanky shifter approached with a cocky swagger. “Hey, new female.” He stared at her, his cheeks and lips reddening with lust. “I met you at Tullia’s house, remember? I’m Chad. What’s your name?”
Seriously? After the Cosantir almost put her to death, now this…idiot…wanted to flirt? What an insane night. Where was a sturdy tree on which to thump her head? “I’m rather busy right now.”
“Aw, c’mon. You’re really pretty. How about—”
“How about you move away?” Ryder suggested in an edged voice.
The male sniffed the air, and his lip curled up. “You got no say over what she does. She obviously didn’t want to mate you.”
The scent of aggression rose into the air.
“Back off, asshole,” Ryder growled.
“Please,” Emma whispered, putting her hand on his arm. “Don’t. This isn’t the place. This is never the time.”
“Yeah, you dumb fuck, listen to the female,” the male said. He grabbed Emma’s hand, his grip hurting on her scraped palm.
She sucked in a breath from the pain and saw his eyes light. And he squeezed harder. She felt a trickle of blood.
Ryder’s powerful hand closed on Chad’s wrist, and as he bore down, the tendons stood out on his wrist. “Let her go.”
“Fuck, asshole!” Chad dropped her hand.
Ryder pushed him. “You hurt her.” Ryder gave him another shove, and Chad staggered back again. “Deliberately.”
Emma started to shake. Angry males. Loud voices. Then there would be blood and—
Chad charged, ramming his head into Ryder’s stomach so violently that Ryder hit a tree with his back.
Oh no. Dread seeped into her blood. Fighting. No. She ran to Ben. “Ben—stop them. Please.”
Joe looked up. “Stupid dog needs a lesson. Let ’em fight.”
“Please…”
With a blustering noise, Ben sauntered toward the males.
Ryder had Chad on the ground, straddling him, and was enjoying the hell out of each blow he landed. By the God, he could smell Emma’s blood on the wolf’s hand. Heard again the soft sound of pain she’d made. The asshole had hurt her while she was under Ryder’s care.
Oh, this fucker was going to pay.
Before Ryder could move, Ben grabbed his shirt and yanked him up. “Stop it. This is a Gathering, not a war.”
“Fuck. You.” He drove his fist into his littermate’s gut—it was like hitting a rock wall—and his next followed to the jaw. “You’re always butting into my fun.”
After staggering back, Ben regained his footing and lunged forward. He slammed a huge fist into Ryder’s belly, grabbed his shoulders, and threw him across the clearing.
People scrambled out of the way like fleeing mice. Landing painfully hard, Ryder rolled up onto hands and knees. He shook his head, feeling the hum of the full moon, revving into battle-fever, which would be followed by a good mating.
His blood churned in his veins. He needed to hit something. And nothing was as fun as pounding on the grizzly. Hell, it’d been years since they had a good brawl.
He gave a shake as if to settle his fur and shoved to his feet, charging the grizzly with a happy growl.
“No!” Emma screamed a protest as Ryder rammed his shoulder into his brother.
Ben backpedaled and punched Ryder again, knocking him away—then attacked.
Fighting. Her world was fragmenting, fracturing, tearing itself apart with loud, discordant notes. The smack of fist on flesh. Grunting. Snarling. Swearing. Tears blurred her eyes.
They loved each other. Were hurting each other. Because of her. “Stop. Stop, please, stop!”
Never, never again.
“No!” With a soul-stricken cry, Emma threw herself between them. Ben’s mammoth body hit her like a falling oak tree and knocked her sideways into Ryder. His fist smashed into her stomach.
Pain. So much pain.
Two shouts made her ears ring as she fell to her knees, arms wrapped over the agony in her middle. Knives stabbed her leg as she dropped onto the stony earth. Everything hurt and she couldn’t…couldn’t breathe.
An arm supported her. “By the God,” Ben growled. “Shhh, darlin’. Don’t move.”
“Herne’s balls. Little bear, I didn’t want…” Ryder dropped down beside her and massaged her paralyzed abdominal muscles.
Interminable seconds passed. The buzzing in her ears grew. Then her gut relaxed, and her lungs expanded. One breath. A miracle.
She gasped for more air and found her voice. “Don’t fight.” She grabbed Ben’s shirt, Ryder’s wrist. “Don’t fight.”
“By the God, I knew you wouldn’t change your ways.” The furious roar came from Emma’s nightmares. Cedrick, the Cosantir from her former territory, stalked across the clearing. Gray streaked his hair now; lines were deeper in his face.
A blast of hatred came from him. Her mouth opened, and nothing came out.
“Just like your mother. Boosting your overblown ego by making males fight over you.”
Cedrick was here.
Here.
“What’s your problem?” Ryder paused, undoubtedly seeing the power of the God emanating from the Mt. Hood Cosantir.
A smothering wave of silence filled the clearing.
Cedrick pointed at her. “She was banished from my territory after she goaded two young males into attacking each other. Their battle was so vicious they both died.”
Gasps sounded around the area.
Roaring filled Emma’s ears and red seared the edges of her vision.
Not again. No, please, Mother of All, not again.
“What?” Ryder stared down at her. “No…”
His voice disappeared in the roaring in her ears. Someone took her hand…said something…but above it all, she heard Cedrick’s snarls. “She…”
His tortured snarls carried her down, down, until memories were a fire of agony riding her bloodstream, burning her heart to ashes. Her sight blurred into a shroud of gray, her ears tuned to the song of tragedy where all she could hear were the sounds of two males fighting, savaging each other, growling, and roaring.
Her screams echoed down the hallway. Blood covered the walls, the floor, filling her vision with red. “I’ll leave. I’ll leave. Don’t fight—oh, please, don’t fight.”
Tears burned her abraded cheeks as she grabbed Ryder’s arm and shook it. “I’ll leave. He loves you. Don’t fight.”
The arm tightened around her.
Everywhere she looked was red, blood everywhere; the unspeakable stench of death filled the air. Her ears heard only the gasping last breaths—and still fighting. Fighting. Grunts and thumps, growling and roaring. Why wouldn’t they stop?
“No more!” She tried to put her hands over her ears and couldn’t move. “Stop fighting. I don’t want you to fight! I’ll take you both. Don’t hurt each other.” Her fingers curled around an arm, and she shook it. Tried to pull him away from the fight. “Don’t hit him. You don’t need to hit him—I’ll do anything.”
“What the fuck?” Voices sounded around her. The battle filled her head. Andre’s swearing. Shrieks of agony. “Please…no, please, please.”
Cedrick’s furious voice broke through. “See how she makes the males fight? Damn you, you—” A blow—and pain burst in her cheek.
More roaring sounded. Her body shook. The world itself was falling apart. She wrapped her arms around herself, unable to look. There would be blood everywhere. Her men—dead, her heart with them.
“You got her wrong, you fucking asshole. Cosantir or not, you’re an idiot.”
Was that Ryder? Was he still alive? More snarls drowned out the voices. She was drowning in blood.
“Emma.” The rough, deep voice filled with the power of the God sliced through the snarling and cries of pain. “Tell me who’s fighting.”
“Andre. Gary. Stop, stop, stop.” She struggled against the arms restraining her. She had to stop them. Ice filled her center—she knew what would happen.
“Easy, little bear.” A familiar, smoky voice was gentle…for her. “You don’t have to—”
“I do believe she does. It is time to get to the heart of this.” The clipped voice reverberated with so much power that every instinct in her cried for her to find a dark cave far, far, far from anyone. Run. Hide.
“Not your business, Calum. It’s between me and this female.” The angry voice made shivers start up inside her.
In her lap, a hand clasped hers. She stared at it, blinking as her vision cleared. Lean fingers, reddened knuckles, the wrist bones strong. Dark hair lightly furred a leanly muscled forearm. Ryder. He was pressed cat-close against her left side, his other arm around her waist.
A powerful arm crossed her thighs, and a big hand curved around her hip, holding her in place. Ben. He was on her right, his left arm behind her shoulders.
She pulled in a careful breath. She was pinned between the brothers. They weren’t fighting. She’d stopped them before…before…
But they were surrounded by shifters staring down at her. At the forefront, Cedrick stood, hands fisted, radiating hatred. When his hand opened into claws, she’d be condemned again. Sent away from love and hope and home.
Banished.
But her males were alive. They mustn’t fight—not with a Cosantir.
She closed her eyes. “I’ll go,” she whispered. “Just let me go.”
A feminine growl came from her right. Vicki stood on the other side of Ben. Her tight expression held not anger, but concern. For Emma. Catching Emma’s gaze, Vicki straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin. Get a spine, bear.
“Yes, ma’am,” Emma whispered and saw the twitch of her friend’s lip.
Next to Vicki, Angie gave Emma a firm nod—one a mama bear might administer to a loved cub in danger.
Behind Cedrick was Bree. Only Shay’s arm around her waist kept her from joining Emma. She was openly crying.
Crying for me? Emma blinked back her own tears and pulled in a small breath. Then a bigger one. She wasn’t alone. She had…friends. The miracle edged into her heart, and the fear receded slightly.
She’d planned to return and face down Gawain, the male from Pine Knoll, before telling Ben and Ryder about her past. This was just…a bit…more than she’d anticipated. She needed more courage. Dig deeper. She realized the warmth seeping into her came from Ben and Ryder.
“Bard.”
At the title of respect, she looked up. Calum—her Cosantir—stood in front of her. The shimmer of power increased as his eyes darkened to black with the presence of the God. Her judgment was at hand.
“Tell me why the males in the other territory fought,” his British-accented voice demanded, brooking no refusal.
“They fought over me.” Misery swept over her. “I flirted with them. My fault.”
“By the God, all females flirt at a Gathering,” said a gruff older male.
The arms around her didn’t relax at her confession. Ryder’s hand actually tightened around hers.
“Females flirt.” The Cosantir repeated, “Tell me why the males fought.”
Ben pulled her closer to his massive frame. His huffing growl wasn’t directed at her, but at the Cosantir.
The Cosantir didn’t even flinch. His black gaze burned, drawing out her memories the way she would gather the strands of a song.
“I was going to mate with Gary, but Andre followed us,” she whispered, unable to look away from Calum’s depthless eyes. “Andre was angry; he’d wanted Phoebe, but she’d chosen Gary instead. Andre said I should go with him since he was bigger.”
A snort. “Young males.” Alec’s voice.
“And then…” She started to shake. If she could have run, she would have. Would have fled. She yearned for the safe, quiet…empty…forest. No one to judge.
Ben squeezed her shoulder, holding her in place, holding her in the present. “Darlin’, did you mate with Gary?”
She pulled in a shuddering breath and felt Ryder rub his shoulder against hers in feline support. Courage. “No,” she whispered. “At the mating-room door, Andre stopped us. Gary told him to leave, only Andre ran his hand down my face. And I…I could smell him and hear him, and…”
The hideous cry broke out of her. “Andre kissed me, and I kissed him, and Gary shoved us apart, and they started fighting, and it was all my fault!”
The first sob wrenched at her, tearing apart her ribs, clawing her heart. The ones following were even more painful.
“Hell.” Ben pulled her into his lap, surrounding her with his arms, his size, his strength.
So much blood. So much death. Guilt crushed her under an implacable paw. “Let me go.” She struggled against the bear’s hold. “I did it. Why did I do that? I was with Gary. I shouldn’t—”
“By the God.” A callused hand caught her chin, forcing her to meet Ryder’s harsh gaze. “You’re not exactly old, so when did this happen? How many Gatherings had you been to, Emma?”
“Three years ago. It was my first Gathering. The only one I’ve ever been to.” She wrenched away from Ben and spat at Calum, “I don’t know what I did that night, but I’ll never again be the reason anyone dies. Banish me again. Here…” She leaned forward and tilted her face so he could claw her. “Do it. I’ll go away and—”
Ben yanked her back.
Ryder’s hand closed over her mouth, muffling her. “Uh-uh, little bear.”
She strained against the two males, just wanting to run, and then all the energy drained out of her. She sagged in Ben’s arms.
Ryder took his hand away and stroked her hair away from her face.
After a second, she opened her eyes.
The Daonain silently stared at her, brows furrowed, shaking their heads. Yes, she’d disappointed them all. Horrified them.
“That’s not how it happened,” Cedrick growled. “She’s—”
“That was exactly how it happened.” Gawain gently moved Angie to one side as he stepped out of the crowd with Owen at his back. He scowled at the Cosantir of his territory. “I told you so then and there.”
Cedrick’s color heightened. “Watch it, cat, or you’ll find yourself out of—”
“Ssssst.” Hissing, the cahir Owen stepped in front of Gawain.
“Well,” Alec interrupted, “I think my mate would call your Gathering a clusterfuck.” His voice was easy. Smooth. “It seems odd the God would banish a female for merely being a battle prize.”
“Odd indeed.” With a frown, Calum bent and ran his fingertips over the scars on Emma’s cheek. Did it again. His fingers were hotter than normal skin temperature and left tingling in their wake. “Emma, why did you say you were banished?”
“Because I-I was….” She was shaking so hard it was impossible to breathe.
“Easy, little bear,” Ryder murmured. His hands closed around hers.
“I banished her. Rightfully so.” When the Mt. Hood Cosantir curved his fingers into claws, Emma shuddered.
“You tried.” Calum’s accented voice had chilled. “It appears the God disagreed.”
Ben cleared his throat. “When the Mother forgives, the black disappears, leaving only normal scars behind. So…”
So how would Calum know if her banishment had happened or not? Emma frowned.
Calum glanced at Ben and then smiled at her. “To the eyes, nothing is left. But a banishment leaves marks on the soul for those who can see.” And a Cosantir could see.
“She wasn’t?” Cedrick stared at her. He stepped back, looking as if he’d been punched. “She wasn’t.”
Emma touched her face, feeling the thin scars. Cedrick had pronounced her banishment, but she’d never been able to face seeing the black marks on her face.
She’d never looked.
I was never banished. “But Andre and Gary died because of me.”
“You were the excuse. You didn’t do anything.” Gawain glanced at Calum. “Hell, Emma was so innocent she didn’t even know how to flirt, let alone get two males to fight. I was the first male she’d ever had. Each time someone took her to a room, she was surprised—filled with delight—someone wanted her.”
Emma shook her head. “But, I—”
“By the God,” Ryder muttered and pulled her tighter against him. “Little bear, don’t you see? Those males were primed to fight. If you hadn’t provided an excuse, they’d have found something else.”
Ben kissed her fingers. “Honey bear, did you ask them to fight for your favor?”
“No, of course not!”
“A fair number of females do.” Ryder glanced toward the right, his eyes turning cold. “Genevieve always did. It’s not against the law…just crappy behavior.”
“But I’d chosen a male and turned to another.”
“Aye,” Ben agreed. “It’s okay. It happens. A more experienced female might—might—have been able to control her response.”
“But a female at her first Gathering is usually overwhelmed,” Vicki said. “You’re out of control. Your mind is trapped in all the sensations.”
Every male’s scent, the sound of a voice, a laugh…she’d kept getting lost. She turned to Gawain. “I didn’t flirt? Didn’t do anything wrong?”
“No, you didn’t do anything at all.” His lips turned up. “There’s no law against being adorable.”
Ben’s growl rumbled through his chest and vibrated across her skin.
Gawain took a careful step back.
With a satisfied grumble, Ben stroked her hair. “You reacted like any young female, darlin’. You did nothing wrong.”
Her eyes filled with tears. She’d paid, perhaps unfairly, but she was here and… “They died.”
One arm around Vicki, Alec stood next to Calum. “The consequences of being stupid can be harsh. They were young, driven by testosterone, and out of control. They paid an ugly price.”
“The world isn’t always fair.” The God still rode Calum’s shoulders as he turned a black gaze upon Cedrick. “But judgments given by a Cosantir should be.”
“Three years.” Ryder’s hand tightened painfully on hers. “You lived wild for three fucking years.” With every breath, his growls grew more audible.
“Emma. By the God…” The Mt. Hood Cosantir sank to his knees as if unable to remain upright. “What have I done?”
“You drove a vulnerable, innocent female into the wilderness. Made her think she was guilty. Alone for three. Fucking. Years. That’s what you did.” Ryder’s fury reverberated from the ridges. He rose. His hands were claws at his side.
In the clearing, the shifters whispered, and Emma realized their anger was focused on the Mt. Hood Cosantir. On Emma’s behalf.
She had friends. Friends.
Before Ryder could attack, Emma grabbed his calf with both hands and held him back. “No fighting.”
“He wronged you. He—”
“Maybe. But Gary was his son. You know how you’d feel if Minette was hurt or…” Died. She couldn’t even say the word. The world would stop if Minette died.
Ryder froze, and after a second, his fingers uncurled. “Fuck.” He met her eyes, sharing the knowledge. A child’s death would be the worst pain ever possible.
“Emma.” Still on his knees, Cedrick had tears in his eyes. “I’ve been so…filled with hatred. Gary’s death. Andre’s death. Neither was your fault.” His jaw tightened as his voice lowered. “In my grief, I looked for someone or something to blame.”
Pain radiated from him.
“Cosantir—”
He shook his head, his lips twisting into a half-smile. “Not for much longer. I think when I return, the God will lift his hand from me and choose another. My vision has grown…narrow.”
“But…” He’d no longer be the Cosantir of his territory?
He leaned forward and took her hand.
Ben tensed behind her. Ryder stepped closer.
“Emma, you are not like your mother, and you never were. I see that clearly now. The town and I treated you unfairly—as a child, as a female, as a bard. Eventually, I hope you can forgive me.”
“I already have,” she said gently.
She’d learned something about people. About Cedrick. And about Ryder, as well. Both her mother and Genevieve were like stones falling into a small pond. The self-centered impact sent anger and hatred rippling outward to affect those around them.
Chuckling, Alec helped the stunned Mt. Hood Cosantir to his feet. “Emma has a soft heart. My female would’ve gutted you and left you for the coyotes.”
“Damn straight,” came from Vic.
“I don’t care if she’d disembowel him or not. Got other concerns here.” Ryder lifted Emma from Ben’s lap and onto her feet. His dark voice took on a sharp edge. “Dammit, female, why the fuck didn’t you tell us about all this before?”
“Dammit, female?”
Excuse me?
She’d survived Cedrick, banishment, hiking down a mountain. Her polite allotment was gone. All used up. “Let me think.” She put her hands on her hips. “Maybe because I’ve only liked you for a week or so? Or maybe because you have issues with females?”
He blinked at her, as startled as a cougar bitten on the nose by a mouse.
Dammit, female. Oooh, the insult still burned. Come to think of it, hadn’t he asked a favor of her? “Will you do me a favor and wallop me when I mess up?”
“So…male…be warned. Anytime you address me as dammit, female, you’ll get this for an answer.” She punched him on the arm. Hard.
Hard enough that he winced.
Ben looked shocked. “Emma?”
After a stunned moment, Ryder roared, his laughter deep and rich. “I need to be more careful about what I request.”
She checked his face carefully, surreptitiously shaking her throbbing hand. The man’s biceps were harder than rocks. “You’re serious?”
“Oh, yeah.” He hugged her and kissed her lightly. “Shows me you care, or you wouldn’t have bothered. I’ll try not to mess up again.”
He read her well. “Okay, then.”
As the anxiety trickled out of her, she started thinking about escape. She needed quiet. She wanted to hide. What must everyone think? Would they look down on her for…for causing this mess during Beltane?
Before she could take a step, the Cosantir—her Cosantir—stopped her. “Bard, Vicki said you knew Beltane songs. After some food and drink to revive you, might you grace us with a song or two?”
Rousing cheers filled the clearing and warmed her heart.
She looked around. The shifters of Cold Creek were smiling. Happy with her and for her. Yes, this was her town.
Angie pulled her away from Ben for a hug. Bree and Bonnie followed. Vicki grinned and said quietly, “Ice down your hand—and next time aim for a softer spot.”
Next time.
Knowing Ryder, the occurrence of a next time was entirely possible. Even better, Emma would be around to chastise him and would have the courage to do so.
With a wavering giggle, Emma hugged the small, incredibly tough female. “I will. I will do that.”
*
After the endless night, the breakfast feast, and the singing, Emma had only enough strength to pull on a robe before she collapsed on her bed.
Brow creased with concern, Ryder hovered in the doorway. Behind him, Ben was making worried sounds under his breath like an aged grandsire.
Although their concern turned her insides squishy, she needed to be alone. Her breath hitched, and her eyes prickled with tears.
“By the God, Emma.” Aghast, Ryder started forward. “Don’t cry.”
She motioned toward the door. “Go on, you two. I’m fine. I just need to rest for a bit.” To be alone.
Ben nodded his understanding, yanked his littermate out of the room, and closed the door.
She had a moment to think how funny it was that the aloof cat was the brother most upset by her tears, and then…those tears spilled over and scalded her scratched cheeks. A sob escaped, and she buried her face in the pillow to muffle her weeping.
Oh, she wanted to scream. To hit something. To yell and mourn, and laugh and cry. And all she could do was cry.
Gary and Andre’s deaths hadn’t been her fault. Not. My. Fault.
She hadn’t been banished. Not ever. The God hadn’t agreed with the Cosantir’s judgment. She hadn’t had to spend years alone, feeling hated.
So many long, silent nights, cold and hungry, yearning for her clan. Ragged sobs tore at her throat.
And still, she couldn’t hate Cedrick. He’d lost his son. Was no longer the powerful male of her youth. The years of grief…and hatred…had damaged him. Broken him.
The years had changed her, as well, for better and for worse.
Her weeping slowed. Stopped.
The pillow was wet against her cheek as she lay quietly, feeling better for the catharsis.
The years were over and done, and couldn’t be reclaimed. However, the master bard had taught her to study the past, even while remembering the Mother was a goddess of balance.
A wise shifter would note her blessings as well as her trials.
Blessings. Hmm. Well, although the years in the wilderness had been lonely ones, she’d also matured. She wasn’t as…flutter-brained…as many females her age.
During the time alone, she’d also grown as a bard, even if her audience had been tree fairies and birds.
Looking back on her youth, she knew her mother had left her overly…sensitive…to opinion. Emma expected other people to judge her harshly, and being alone had made the problem worse. She needed to work on those insecurities—although, like Ryder, she might mess up now and again.
Her lips curved up. It had been fun to punch him. However, considering the size and hardness of his fist, she wouldn’t ask him to do the same with her.
He’d sure been unhappy she hadn’t shared her past with him. She should have, but she’d been afraid. Fear had made her do quite a few stupid things, hadn’t it? Starting with behaving like a pursued goose when she’d run into Gawain.
Sitting up, Emma wiped her face and grinned ruefully. She deserved points for…eventually…conquering her panic and turning around. A half-laugh escaped her. Maybe conquer wasn’t the right word. More like barely managed. Still, she’d been returning to face him. She wasn’t a coward. Not completely.
The time when her need had controlled her actions had been frightening in a whole different way. Living around other shifters—male shifters—had apparently increased her sex drive to a fearsome pitch. In her desperation to return to the Gathering, she could easily have gone off a cliff.
She shook her head as she stared at her dirty hands. Two fingernails had been shredded down to the quick. Her palms were abraded and sliced in places. Her whole body was scraped from branches, bruised from falls. She’d been out of her mind.
Mating with Ben under the full moon, on the other hand, had been a whole different kind of madness.
She closed her eyes and remembered the feel of his sure hands, the powerful way he’d taken her, so fierce, yet totally in control. His demands had pulled her with him until she hadn’t felt anything except her need and his pleasure in satisfying it.
At her first Gathering—before everything had gone wrong—the matings had been pleasurable. With Ben, the sex had been overwhelmingly, terrifyingly intense. But, could she have let go if she hadn’t felt so safe as well? In his arms, she was sheltered.
Over the weeks in his home, she’d come to trust him. To desire him. To love him.
Was this what lifemates felt?
A breath caught in her chest. Maybe now she’d have a chance to answer the question.
She could stay here in Cold Creek, where they valued her as a bard. Where she had friends who stood beside her. She snorted. And where friends instructed her on the fine art of punching a wayward male.
Above all, the most thrilling—frightening—wonderful part of staying in Cold Creek was that Ben and Ryder lived here.
Needing comfort, she gathered her pillow into her arms. For years, she hadn’t needed to think about risking anything other than her physical safety. Risking her heart was—be honest, bard—a done deal. The two males already owned her heart.
She’d fallen for Ben a long time before, Ryder more recently, but no less powerfully. Just as well she loved them both, since they couldn’t be separated.
What did they think of her, though? Could they possibly…ever…want her for more than a female friend?
She’d mated with Ben. Ryder’d kissed her. He’d wanted to mate with her at the Gathering, Would he still be interested when the moon waned?
With an irritated laugh, she buried her head in her pillow. Actually living life was nerve-racking.
But she had time, didn’t she? Perhaps that was the greatest gift Cedrick’s appearance and the resolution of her worries had given her. There was time to figure all this out.
She gave a determined nod. And she would.
A tap at the door dislodged her thoughts.
Before she could answer, the door opened, and the healer stepped inside. “The Cosantir said you needed tending.” His silvery gaze took her in, head to toe, and his lean face darkened with anger. “By the God’s fucking balls, what have you done to yourself?”
*
Ryder opened Emma’s bedroom door and stepped in. Sounded as if Donal was still on a rant.
“By Herne’s holy prick, I better not have to come and do another healing. If you want to go running off in the forest, you fucking wait until I say you can. Am I clear?”
Her eyes, red-rimmed from recent tears, sparked with irritation. Nonetheless, she said, contritely, “Yes, Healer.”
Ryder grinned, his worry receding. She’d had one fucking traumatic night, had undoubtedly had a cry fest and, despite the healer’s work, still looked battered, but her spirit was alive and well.
Damn, she was something.
When Donal turned his back, she made a face. Ryder couldn’t smother his snort of amusement.
Donal turned his icy glare on Ryder. “After she showers, keep her off her leg. I healed the damage she did, so tomorrow, she can go back to using the brace and cane for another couple of days.” He stepped around Ryder and stalked out, slamming the door behind him.
Ryder considered following. Nah. By now, the healer knew his way out.
Ryder turned his attention to Emma. Donal had reduced the swelling in her leg, but the rest of her was a mess. “Ben’s taking a shower. He sent me to help you with yours. He doesn’t want you to fall. Again.”
The pink in her cheeks increased to a sweet red. Fuck, she was pretty. “I can stand up by myself.”
“Nope.” He plucked her off the bed. Had anyone ever felt so perfect in his arms?
Ben, being both grizzly and cahir, had always preferred larger females.
Once Ryder’d reached his mature weight and size, he, too, had discovered a preference for females tall enough to kiss easily and with ample flesh to fill his big hands. Although females of all sizes were appealing, he liked not worrying if he’d break a female when he was on top.
Nuzzling her hair, he held her closer, enjoying the soft, round curves against him. Reminded him of the human Goldilocks story. This pretty bear wasn’t too little, wasn’t too big; she was just right.
When he didn’t set her on her feet, she realized he planned more than helping her out of bed. “I can walk, you know.”
He headed across the room.
She started to squirm.
“Uh-uh,” he warned—and was ignored.
She’d learn. Threatening to drop someone was a sneaky technique—definitely not one his straightforward brother would employ. Being an evil-minded cat, Ryder had no such scruples. Loosening his grip, he let go.
“No!” With a satisfying gasp, she grabbed his shoulders.
He caught her with nary a jolt and managed not to laugh—barely.
Her glare made him feel a hell of a lot better. He could deal with anger. But tears? Emma’s tears? Seeing her cry earlier had shredded his heart into confetti.
After sneaking a quick kiss, he carefully set her on her feet in the shower. Without asking permission, he stripped off her robe and received another glare. Now she was naked and thoroughly annoyed. Under such provocation, some shifters might trawsfur and seriously damage the instigator, but Ryder knew right to the bottom of his soul this little female would do anything to avoid hurting a person.
He turned on the shower and handed her the shampoo. “Need help?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Don’t be mad, little bear. I’ve been worried about you.” He ran a finger down her soft cheek and frowned at the scratches from bushes.
“I…” Her expression softened. “I’m sorry for being grumbly.”
“Understandable.” He gave her a wry smile. “I daresay I’d be worse. I hate feeling helpless.”
“I bet.” Her smile flickered. “But thank you for caring.”
Oh, he’d gone far beyond caring and was well into much, much more.
He stepped far enough away to stay dry, but close enough to grab her if she lost her balance.
Rolling her eyes, she stepped under the water, and her sensuous sigh hardened his cock. “After three years of washing in icy streams, I’ll never take hot water for granted.”
Bet not. “Aye. And soft mattresses. When I spent a summer in the mountains, I missed my bed.” He grinned. “Ben would probably pine for sweets—like your cookies.”
Her laugh could make a dwarf smile.
As she bent to wash her hair, the overhead light revealed pink bite marks on her neck and shoulders.
His brows lifted. Her nipples were red and swollen. Faint fingermarks showed on her round hips…and she still smelled of a thorough mating.
Well, well, well. Ben had definitely found her well before the moon had set. Good for you, my brother.
His cock surged awake, right along with the urge to take her and leave his own handprints and bite marks alongside his littermate’s.
That would feel right; the way it should be. Littermates shared.
As she washed, he leaned against the wall and kept an eye on her. So beautiful—not only on the outside, but on the inside as well, even to forgiving her previous Cosantir.
He fucking wouldn’t forgive the weasel who’d banished a young, confused female. By the God, he wished he’d been there to defend her. To protect her, even if it meant living in the wilderness for three years.
He still had trouble believing she’d survived.
But she had. And he had a feeling she’d emerged stronger for the ordeal. She had a…balance…to her. Yes, she worried about what others thought, but she also had rock-steady values no one’s opinion would shake.
The longer he knew her, the more he respected her. And more.
When she turned the water off, he lifted her onto the bath mat and set her hands on the grab bar just outside the shower. With a fluffy towel, he started drying her off.
“I can do it.” She tried to take the towel from him.
“Little bear, you concentrate on keeping your weight off your leg.” He stroked down her back, her sweetly rounded ass, and her long curvy legs. Around to the front, carefully over her sore leg, and up her thighs. He patted dry her mound and her soft abdomen and her full breasts.
Catching the scent of her interest, his desire surged. Everything in him longed to abandon the towel and fondle and lick, and—
No. She’d had enough. Although the fragrance of her awakening was sizzling through his blood, more upheaval at this time wouldn’t be good for her.
He could wait. For this female, he’d find infinite amounts of patience.
After tossing the towel into the hamper, he helped her into Ben’s brown robe. It swamped her smaller frame, and as he rolled up the sleeves, she looked up at him. Her lower lip quivered. “Thank you, Ryder.”
Heart aching, he traced a finger under her still puffy eyes. Was something else wrong? Unable to help himself, he pulled her into his arms. “Little bear, what can I do to help?”
Without any hesitation, she leaned into him. Trust. She trusted him. Gratitude for the gift filled him to overflowing.
“I’m all right. Really.” She rubbed her forehead on his shoulder as Minette did when she was exhausted. “I just needed a good cry. It’s a female thing.”
Genevieve never cried unless she had an audience…and needed something.
Emma…
She’d become far more than a female he wanted to mate. He cared…truly cared for her. Worried about her. Knew her better than he’d known any female, and still, still she had hidden depths he hadn’t discovered. Did being friends deepen the pathways to a true mate?
“All right.” He kissed the top of her head as he would his cub. “I’ve heard you damned females enjoy chocolate. I’ll make you a cup.”
The way she was laughing as she gave him a token punch warmed him from the inside out.