Eventide of the Bear by Cherise Sinclair (32)

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North Cascades Territory; first quarter moon

Human “Memorial Day”

The sun was retreating into the west, turning the tips of the tall conifers a lovely glowing green and sparkling off the clear mountain lake. Seated in the middle of her friends, Emma looked around the clearing.

A game of keep-away was going on between the wolf pack and some first- and second-year shifters. Calum’s daughter Jamie, a sleek panther, had teamed with three young wolves and one black bear. With better teamwork and coordination, the older pack members were running the paws off the youngsters.

“And Alec told me—” Vicki broke off, her gaze on her stepdaughter. “Go, Jamie!”

Jamie had leapt up a tree trunk and now rebounded straight into a cluster of wolves. With a swift paw, she batted the oversized rubber ball right out from between Zeb’s fangs and into the air.

Her bear teammate fumbled before catching it in his jaws. With a burst of speed, he scurried toward the first-years’ goal, protected by the young wolves on his team.

When the bear reached the goal, winning the point, he shifted. The rest of the youngsters followed suit, and their loud cheering echoed through the mountains. Jamie did a victory boogie around the wolves.

“I can’t believe she stole the ball from Zeb. She’ll be gloating for days.” Vicki handed out drinks, grinning proudly.

As Jamie gave another piercing whoop of victory, a pinecone smacked into her head. Pixies in the quiet mountain areas didn’t take well to noise. With a grumble, Jamie shifted back to animal, and the game resumed.

“That’s one feisty little tree fairy.” Bonnie motioned to the scowling sprite swinging on a low limb, chittering insults at the pack.

“Aren’t they adorable?” Breanne smiled. “The one in the spruce near our patio acts as if she hates the parties, but when Shay tried to convince me to start the season late, she bombarded him with twigs.”

“I can’t believe how many OtherFolk have moved close to the lodge,” Jody said. She did cleaning there, so she’d have noticed the increase.

“What kinds?” Vicki asked, turning away from the game.

Emma smiled. She’d noticed Vicki and Bree—previously human—were fascinated by the OtherFolk.

“Each cabin now has at least one tree fairy nearby,” Jody said. “Salamanders are in all but the least used woodstoves and fireplaces. There are even a few undines teasing minnows in the creek.”

“There’s also a gnome under the footbridge embankment,” Bree said. “Even though the kitchen’s a mess after the Sunday barbecues, there are more brownies. They seem to think cleaning is fun. But I don’t how why the rest of the OtherFolk have increased.”

With every breath, Emma could feel the zinging energy around the lake. “Of course the OtherFolk love the lodge. You not only have people on vacation, but you have parties where people eat and talk, and laugh and play. Look at all that energy.” She motioned toward Minette and her cubmates.

Ryder was in cat form. Minette was shouting commands to her troop of small friends as they played Pounce on the Panther. When enough little bodies piled on him, Ryder obediently collapsed. One little boy was giggling so hard he rolled right off the heap.

Laughing, Bree opened her hand in acknowledgement. “I never thought about how the guests would affect the OtherFolk.”

“Bards are taught to sense the energy in a room.” Emma took a sip of her drink. “Ben told me hellhounds feed on negative emotions. If true, the OtherFolk, like sprites and brownies, probably get a boost from happy emotions. And, Bree, even your smallest parties generate so much joy the air tingles.”

Vicki nodded. “Calum says laughter and song are the human race’s gift to the gods.”

“As are babies.” Emma grinned at the brunette. “Speaking of which, shouldn’t you be showing by now?”

“What a disgusting word. Showing.” Vicki scowled, and yet one hand tenderly covered the invisible baby bump. “The thought of turning into the Goodyear blimp doesn’t make me happy.”

“Maybe you won’t be that big.” Bree frowned. “How many are you having? Did you get a sonogram?”

“No sonograms. Shifters only use healers. Donal says he might know the numbers and sexes, but he won’t tell.” Vicki glowered. “The bastard is unbribable. I tried.”

“Daonain are crazy,” Bree muttered. Her exasperated expression was identical to Vicki’s.

“You two are Daonain now, in case you forgot.” When Vicki and Bree turned their scowls on Emma, she grinned. “I’ve never met humans turned shifter before, but it’s certainly fun to view our world through your eyes.”

Bree nudged her shoulder hard enough to knock Emma sideways, despite her greater size. “And now you know how much fun we’ve had with you, Miss Shyness, as you get your ass integrated into the”—she waved her hands—“greater whole.”

Emma opened her mouth. Closed it. She knew they’d understood her trepidation and worries, but apparently, they viewed her tentative steps with the same affectionate amusement as she watched their human missteps. That was…lovely.

Vicki noticed and pointed a finger at her. “Do not start with any teary-eyed stuff. This is a party.”

“Yes, uh…”—What had the human spy called her?—“Sergeant. As you wish.”

Eventide. The finest hour of the day, and even better when celebrated with family and friends. Ben took a slow breath of the moist lakeside air. The last rays of sunlight glinted off the glacier-tipped peaks, and the first hint of coolness had appeared. Across the lake, a deer stopped to drink, ears tipped toward the commotion.

As he discussed remodeling Alec and Calum’s over-the-tavern apartments, he could hear Emma laughing with her female crew. Her happiness warmed him, inside and out.

And Ryder… He didn’t often see his taciturn brother play. Then again, staying in cat form meant he didn’t have to talk…and all cats loved games of pounce.

Just then, Minette pulled herself out of the heap of children, put her hands on her hips, and scowled. It was an exact copy of Emma this morning when Ben had stolen some of her newly baked cookies.

“Mama!”

Minette’s yell silenced the lake clearing.

Undoubtedly recognizing the cub’s voice, Emma turned, eyes wide. Her drink tipped sideways, spilling onto the grass until Angie righted it.

The bard’s voice, which normally could fill an entire room, emerged shaky. “Y-yes, my kitten?”

“Tyler got Luke for his bodder. And Jamie is getting bodders and sisters from her mama’s stomach. I want bodders, too.”

The expression on Emma’s face was…indescribable, and the look she gave Ben then Ryder, held equal amounts of love and joy and helplessness.

Ben grinned at his littermate.

The panther’s purr filled the air—Ryder agreed with his daughter.

After clearing his own throat, Ben answered his cub in the only way possible. “Don’t worry, darlin’. We’ll get right on that.”

*

The Daonain use a conglomeration of handed-down languages from the British Isles. Some of the older villages still speak the Gaelic (Scots) or Irish Gaelic. Many of the more common (and mangled) shifter terms have descended from Welsh.

Errors and simplification of spelling and pronunciation can be attributed to being passed down through generations…or the author messing up. Below are a few of the more common words and terms used by the shifters.

a bhràthair: brother

a chuisle mo chridhe: pulse of my heart

a leannán: sweetheart, darling

a mhac: son

brawd: brother

cahir: warrior

cariad: lover, darling, sweetheart

cosantir: guardian or protector

dùin do bhuel: shut up

mo bhràthair: my brother

mo charaid: my friend

mo chridhe: my heart

mo leannán: my darling / my lover

tha gaol agam ort: I love you

trawsfur: transform or shift

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*

Master of the Mountain

Mountain Masters & Dark Haven: Book 1

Available everywhere

I loved it! Every word, every page, every moment until the end! So that is my review in a nutshell…….. OK I can do better than that, but seriously a melt your panties right off, intriguing love story that forces you to turn the pages until the wee hours of the night just to get to the end! How about that!

~ Book Junkie

Rebecca thinks she is overweight and boring. Logan disagrees.

When Rebecca’s lover talks her into a mountain lodge vacation with his swing club, she soon learns she’s not cut out for playing musical beds. But with her boyfriend “entertaining” in their cabin, she has nowhere to sleep. Logan, the lodge owner, finds her freezing on the porch. After hauling her inside, he warms her in his own bed, and there the experienced Dominant discovers that Rebecca might not be a swinger…but she is definitely a submissive.

Rebecca believes that no one can love her plump, scarred body. Logan disagrees. He loves her curves, and under his skilled hands, Rebecca loses not only her inhibitions, but also her heart.

Logan knows they have no future. Damaged from the war, he considers himself too dangerous to be in any relationship. Once the weekend is over, he’ll have to send the city-girl subbie back to her own world. But will driving her away protect Rebecca or scar them both?

*

Master of the Mountain

The sun was high overhead and unseasonably hot by the time the trail descended, leaving the pines behind. He led the group across a grass- and wildflower-filled meadow to the tiny mountain lake, clear and blue and damned cold. Granite slabs poked up through the wildflowers, glimmering in the sun. With yells of delight, people dropped their backpacks and stripped.

Logan enjoyed the show of bare asses and breasts as the swingers splashed into the water like a herd of lemmings, screaming at the cold. As he leaned on a boulder, he noticed one person still completely dressed with wide eyes and open mouth. The city girl. Considering she and Matt bunked together, Rebecca couldn’t be a virgin, but from her reaction, she was pretty innocent when it came to kink.

“C’mon, babe,” her boyfriend yelled, already buck naked in the lake. “The water’s great.” Not waiting for her response, he waded out deeper, heading for a blonde who looked as if she had substituted bouncy breasts for cheerleading pom-poms.

Rebecca glanced from the water to the trail, back to the water, where Matt wrestled with Ashley, and back to the trail again.

Logan could see the exact moment she decided to leave. He walked over to block her way.

“Excuse me,” she said politely.

“No.”

Red surged into her cheeks, and her eyes narrowed as she glared at him. Red-gold hair. Freckles. Big bones. Looked like she had Irish ancestry and the temper to go with it. Stepping sideways to block her again, Logan tucked his thumbs into his front pockets and waited for the explosion.

“Listen, Mr. Hunt—”

“It’s Logan,” he interrupted and tried not to grin as her mouth compressed.

“Whatever. I’m going back to my cabin. Please move your… Please move.”

“Sorry, sugar, but no one hikes alone. That’s one safety rule I take seriously.” He glanced at the swingers. “I can’t leave them, and you can’t walk alone, so you’re stuck here.”

Her eyes closed, and he saw the iron control she exerted over her emotions.

The Dom in him wondered how quickly he could break through that control to the woman underneath. Tie her up, tease her a bit, and watch her struggle not to give in to her need and… Hell, talk about inappropriate thoughts.

He pulled in a breath to cool off. No use. It was blistering hot, and not just from his visions of steamy sex. Nothing like global warming in the mountains. He frowned when he noted her damp face and the sweat soaking her long-sleeved, heavy shirt. Not good. The woman needed to get her temperature down.

At the far end of the meadow, the forest would provide shade. He could send her there to sit and cool off, but she’d be out of sight, and from the obstinate set of that pretty, pink mouth, she’d head right back down the trail in spite of his orders.

Shoulders straight, chin up, feet planted. Definitely a rebellious one, the type that brought his dominant nature to the fore. He’d love to give her an order and have her disobey, so he could enjoy the hell out of paddling that soft ass. But she wasn’t his to discipline, more’s the pity, since a woman like this was wasted on that pretty boy.

And he’d gotten sidetracked.

With a sigh, he returned to the problem at hand. She needed to stay here where he could keep an eye on her, and she needed to cool off.

“Even if you don’t strip down completely, at least take some clothes off and wade in the water,” he said. “You’re getting overheated.”

“Thank you, but I’m fine,” she said stiffly.

“No, you’re not.” When he stepped closer, he felt the warmth radiating off her body. Being from San Francisco, she wouldn’t be accustomed to the dryness or the heat. “Either strip down, little rebel, or I’ll toss you in with your clothes on.”

Her mouth dropped open.

He wouldn’t, would he? Rebecca stared up at the implacable, cold eyes, seeing the man’s utter self-confidence. Definitely not bluffing.

Well, he could be as stern as he wanted. Damned if she’d take her clothing off and display her chunky, scarred legs. She shook her head, backing away. If she needed to, she’d run.

Faster than she could blink, he grabbed her arm.

She tugged and got nowhere. “Listen, you can’t—”

With one hand, he unbuttoned her heavy shirt, not at all hindered by her efforts to shove his hand away. After a minute, her shirt flapped open, revealing her bra and her pudgy stomach. “Damn you!”

She glanced at the lake, hoping for Matt to rescue her, and froze. He was kissing the oh-so-perky Ashley, and not just a peck on the lips but a full clinch and deep-throating tongues. Rebecca stared as shock swept through her, followed by a wave of humiliation. He… As her breath hitched, she tore her gaze away, blinking against the welling tears. Why had she ever come here?

“Oh, sugar, don’t do that now.” Logan pulled her up against his chest, ignoring her weak protest. His arms held her against chest muscles hard as the granite outcroppings, and he turned so she couldn’t see the lake. Silently, he stroked a hand down her back while she tried to pull herself together.

Matthew and Ashley would have sex. Soon. Somehow she hadn’t quite understood the whole concept of swinging and what her gut-level reaction would be. But she could take it now that she realized…what would happen. After drawing in a shaky breath, she firmed her lips. Fine.

And if Logan insisted she strip to bra and panties, that was fine too. So what if these people saw her giant thighs and ugly scars. She’d never see any of them again. Ever.

For a second, she let herself enjoy the surprising comfort of Logan’s arms. Then she pushed away.

He let her take a step back and then grasped her upper arms, keeping her in place as he studied her face.

She flushed and looked away. God, how embarrassing. She had melted down in front of a total stranger, showing him exactly how insecure she was. But he’d been nice, and she owed him. “Thank you for…uh…the shoulder.”

With a finger, he turned her face back to him. “I like holding you, Rebecca. Come to me anytime you need a shoulder.” A crease appeared in his cheek. He ran his finger across the skin at the top of her lacy bra, his finger slightly rough, sending unexpected tingles through her. “You think I can talk you out of this too?”