Chapter Seven
‡
Nestled in the white-capped North Cascade Mountains, the tiny town of Cold Creek looked as if it hadn’t changed since the early 1900s. Past the two-block-long Main Street, Ryder drove to the edge of town, down a smaller road, and parked at the end. The road had a rural feel with oversized lots and older two- and three-story homes. He could see why Ben had chosen it.
“We’re here, Minette.” May the Mother be with us. He lifted his daughter from the kiddie seat on the passenger side of the SUV.
Settling her on his hip, he ruffled her silky brown hair. “Gonna need you to sit on the step for a few minutes, kitten.” While I see if we have a welcome here or not. Anticipation, hope, and worry welled inside him in an unsettling brew.
She blinked up at him, thumb firmly in her mouth, green-brown eyes wide. No answers forthcoming. Considering he hadn’t heard her speak at all in the last six days, he wasn’t surprised, but he still hoped. By the Mother, he’d never hoped so hard in his life. If only he’d known Genevieve had born a child. Or not fallen for her in the first place. His jaw clenched. Fuck, he was an idiot. Nevertheless, that trail was in the past, he had a new one to follow now.
And amends to make.
He stared up at the three-story Victorian house. The dark green siding contrasted pleasantly with the white trim and a dark brown, shingled roof. The covered front porch butted up against an octagonal tower on the left. Although the grounds looked as if no one had tended them in a decade or more, the house had been recently restored. Lumber off to one side indicated Ben wasn’t finished.
Ryder’s shoulders relaxed. His littermate hadn’t changed beyond all recognition. Building was one of the loves they’d shared. Ben preferred to work on a large scale by building and remodeling houses. Ryder favored customized finish work and handcrafting furniture.
“Let’s see how loud the bear will roar.” His gut was tight as he carried his cub up the sidewalk. When she was settled on the porch steps, he handed her a picture book to look at.
With a small smile—her only kind—she opened the book. Minette never moved much. Never got in trouble. Never had a tantrum or disobeyed. He hoped, prayed to the Mother for her to grow confident enough to be a normal, feisty cub.
She needed a stable home and family. Worry gnawed at his guts as he moved past her to the front door.
What if his brother had a mate? What if he was still angry with Ryder for leaving? Every second of the last five years weighed down his shoulders.
His rap on the door was answered by Ben himself.
Pleasure surged through Ryder at the sight of his littermate. The world hadn’t felt right without his brother at his side.
“Griz.” Fuck, it was good to catch his brother’s scent—bear and male, along with hints of sawdust and pine.
“Ryder?” Ben’s voice was hoarse, as if he didn’t believe whom he was seeing.
Ryder hadn’t changed that much. Sure, he’d put on the heft and weight of a mature male, but not much else. He wanted to laugh—whoever heard of Ben being silent—but he had to struggle to get air into his lungs. It felt as if the bear had pinned him with a heavy paw. “I—fuck, Ben. I’m…”
The broad, strong face closed up.
Ryder’s words shriveled into dust. His brother should have yelled. As small cubs, they’d tussled and argued; as adults, they’d shouted and fought, yet united together against all comers. His littermate had never shut him out before.
People who saw Ben as easygoing hadn’t seen his steel backbone. Injustice and cruelty brought out the bear’s fury. Apparently, so did being hurt.
Ryder’s hopes sank faster than a rock in the lake.
“What the fuck do you want here?” Ben’s voice was a low growl, deeper than it had been before.
“I came to—”
“No.” The growl grew to a shout. “No word from you for five fucking years. Bad enough you chose a female over me, but then you walked away as if I was old scat. You made your choice, bro.”
The emphasis was ugly—and showed the damage he’d done to his littermate.
My fault. My obsession with a female. Fuck.
Ryder let out a breath. Nothing left to say, was there? “Right. I’m sorry, Ben.”
Ryder’s footsteps thudded hollowly on the wood as he crossed the porch. “Let’s go, kitten.”
She gave him a worried look, her thumb in her mouth.
His heart twisted. By the God, he’d give his left arm, both arms, if it meant she’d be safe. Never have to worry again. Carefully, he picked her up.
Behind him came a sound as if Ben had gotten a fist in the gut.
Ryder glanced back.
Ben stared at Minette. His voice shook as he asked, “You have a cub?”
*
An hour later, in the kitchen, Ben watched his littermate at the sink. By Herne’s heavy balls, Ryder had grown even better looking over the years. Maybe four of so inches short of Ben’s God-given six feet six, his brother had the lean musculature and grace of a panther shifter. Classically handsome, he’d drawn the females like bees to spilled honey.
Although he and Ben shared the angular cheekbones, straight nose, and thick hair of their mother, Ben’s broad features and frame showed his Scottish/Welsh heritage. His light skin held a tan only because of hours in the sun.
From his sire’s side, Ryder’s heritage was French and, oddly enough, African American. Either the Fae’s Wild Hunt had ventured farther afield than commonly believed, or a dying Daonain had Death Gifted one of Ryder’s ancestors with shifter blood. Whatever the original cause, Ryder was dark-eyed with light, saddle-brown skin.
Even their personalities were different. Ben preferred things neat—kept his hair short. Was clean-shaven. His littermate didn’t give a fuck about his appearance; he’d tie his shoulder-length black hair back if it got in his way. His jaw was dark with stubble.
Ben had a slow Texas drawl—and he enjoyed talking.
Ryder’s speech showed his years in Idaho, and the cat would sooner claw a person than talk to him. But when Ryder did speak, people listened. He was damn smart.
Although brothers, they were as different as mountain and valley. Yet at one time, they’d run the trails as a pair. He flinched at the painful thought. Like a rose bush, even the loveliest memories could hide thorns.
Silently—no surprise there—Ryder gave his daughter a drink from the covered glass he’d called a sippy cup.
Such a tiny cub. They’d had to place a box on the chair to give her a seat high enough for the table. She couldn’t be older than about four.
Ben took a sip of beer. “She got a name?”
Ryder nodded. “This is Minette.” When Ben lifted his eyebrows at the French name, he nodded again. “Yes, Genevieve’s one and only. Apparently, Minette’s womb-mates were stillborn.”
“Ah, hell, I’m sorry.” Ryder’s cub. If he and Ben had mated the same female—as did most littermates—Minette would’ve been Ben’s daughter, no matter whose sperm had done the deed. Anger and grief roiled inside him, eroding his delight at her existence. “Did Genevieve come to Cold Creek with you?”
“No. Genevieve and I weren’t together even a year.” Ryder stared at the table for a moment. “It’s just me and Minette.
Ben relaxed. He’d despised Genevieve, hadn’t been able to see what had drawn Ryder. Well, okay, he understood her appeal. Pure, slinky sex. Her personality, however, was as irritating as fangs scraping on concrete. The female was lazy, wanted to be provided with a life of ease, and demanded attention stay on her. She was more self-centered than any female he’d ever met, even the one he’d mated last Gathering.
As Minette tilted her drink, and a sucking noise broke the silence. With a flinch, she set it down, shoulders curving inward.
Why?
When her timid eyes met Ben’s, he smiled slightly. “Drink, lass. Apple juice is my favorite, too.”
After a second, she timidly reached for the glass again.
She was scared.
As his protective instincts fired up, he worked to keep the anger from his face, because he was probably the one scaring her. Because she didn’t know him.
Ryder’s fault.
She would have been an adorable baby. A cute toddler. He’d have loved watching her grow. His anger flared to life again.
Moving to the counter where the cub couldn’t hear them, he motioned Ryder over. “So, the reason you left me was because Genevieve was pregnant?”
His brother looked as if he’d bitten into a rabbit’s bitter gall bladder. “I left because I was obsessed. Didn’t think I’d survive life without her. And you’d said you’d never lifemate.”
Ben winced. He did carry some responsibility for their breach.
Five years past, he’d returned to Texas and, with crap luck, bumped into his father—well, the male who’d raised him. Although Ben had known his mother had died in childbirth, this time his sire bluntly said Ben’s large size had killed her. Torn her apart. Moreover, he’d predicted Ben’s offspring would do the same.
By the God, to hear that he’d killed his mother? To think a cub of his would kill a female carrying it? He’d resolved his seed would spill on unfertile ground, and he’d live without taking a female as a mate. He would never cause another female’s death.
Being a complete idiot, he hadn’t considered what effect his declaration would have on his littermate.
When Ryder pulled a knife from his belt sheath to cut up an apple, Ben’s heart tugged. They’d been separated at five—and when they’d reunited at twenty, it seemed a miracle their brother-bond was still strong and whole. He’d given Ryder the knife after their first barroom brawl when they’d fought side-by-side as if they’d never been apart.
The bond hadn’t seemed such a miracle when Ryder had walked away. Ben rubbed his chest as if he could ease the pain of the damaged bond embedded in his soul.
After Ryder handed Minette a couple of apple pieces and returned, Ben cleared his throat. “But your obsession with Genevieve faded?”
“All too soon. She didn’t want me. Any male who would support and worship her would have done as well. When the newness wore off, she started playing jealousy games and hooking up with different males, even—” Ryder broke off, then continued after a pause. “I left after a Gathering where she goaded a bunch of males into a fight. I’d guess she became pregnant then.”
“How’d you find out about the cub?”
Ryder handed his child another apple slice to keep her occupied. “A friend living in Deschutes Territory visited Farway, saw Minette, and told me to have a look.”
One look would be all it would take. Minette’s big eyes and fair skin were Genevieve’s, but the nose, high cheekbones, curved upper lip and plump lower lip, and pointed chin created a delicate caricature of Ryder. No doubt of her parentage existed. “Hard to imagine Genevieve watching over a newborn.”
“She lived with a couple of rich wolves when Minette was a baby, but apparently, last year, she got bored.” He glanced at Minette to make sure she wasn’t paying attention and added, “Sampled every male in the area, and not just during Gatherings. They booted her out.”
Ben wasn’t surprised. Actually, it was remarkable the promiscuous female had remained with the two wolves so long. They must have been damned wealthy. “Genevieve let you take her cub?”
Genevieve wasn’t the type to surrender anything she had her paw on—even an unwanted child.
“I didn’t ask permission.” Ryder’s jaw tightened. “Without the wolves to rein her in, Genevieve… She lacks mothering skills,” Ryder said lightly, although his face was stony, and one hand fisted. He pointed to a small scar over the child’s cheekbone. “Harold said Minette stopped talking when she was alone with her mother.”
A growl escaped Ben. How could anyone hurt a cub, let alone one with the biggest, most vulnerable eyes in the world?
“When I showed up, Genevieve was fucking a male in the living room. The cub’s bedroom had no furniture, just a pile of blankets. Minette was hiding out in the backyard in a tiny burrow.”
Ryder’s anger had always been slow to rise, Ben remembered, and often would loosen his tongue…as it did now.
“So, I picked Minette up and carried her out, and I started looking for you. I hoped you’d…” Ryder’s voice trailed off.
Forgive him. Ben closed his eyes for a moment. His anger wasn’t gone, but it was manageable. He didn’t have it in his heart to turn away a child, especially his littermate’s. “I’ve got a big house. There’s room for you and the cub.”
The tightness in Ryder’s face lessened. “Thanks.”
“Got to say, the upstairs is a mess, so we’ll have to get the rooms finished and some furniture.”
“Can do.” The cat’s slow smile appeared. “I’m good with wood.”
Understatement of the year. Ryder was the finest woodworker Ben had ever met.
“So…” Ben leaned against the table and attempted another smile. “Want a sandwich to go with the apple slices, Minette?”
She stared at him for a second and popped her thumb into her mouth.
Ryder said, “Appreciate it.”
From the cub’s scrawny appearance, she’d missed more than a few meals with her shrew of a mother. Ben assembled hearty beef and cheddar sandwiches, checking with Ryder for preferences on mayonnaise and mustard. “Here you go.”
Then he made some for himself and Emma, setting her sandwich, potato chips, and a glass of milk onto a tray. At Ryder’s curious glance, he explained. “Got a werebear in the bedroom next to mine. The Cosantir requested I keep her until she’s healthy.”
“Wounded? Does she pose a threat?” Ryder glanced at his cub.
“Not at all. Emma’s a nice female; she’d never hurt a cub.” Another understatement there. “She…” He broke off. Ryder might be relieved to know she’d attacked a hellhound to save a human child, but the Cosantir might not want Emma’s history shared, since he hadn’t rendered his judgment about her. “Having someone around to run food up and assist her when I’m at work would be a relief.”
“You got it.”
“Thanks. I’m going to take this upstairs and then join you.”
As Ben climbed the stairs, he felt his tension ease. Just thinking of Emma had a calming effect. Sure she was a lovely bear with those lush curves and big, brown eyes, but she was also quietly intelligent, fun to talk with, and simply…peaceful.
*
That evening, Emma decided she’d go insane—maybe feral—if she was trapped in the bedroom another day. Now, how could she tell Ben she felt caged in his pretty room?
He’d been so good to her.
The bedside table held an empty plate and glass from the lunch that Ben had apparently left when she was sleeping earlier.
Her excessive exhaustion should ease soon. The healer had warned her the extensive healing would knock her off her paws for a few days. Tomorrow she could put some weight on her leg.
Partial weight, Donal’d said, and he’d given her permission to leave her room, as well.
Thank the Mother.
As she gazed at the dark windows, her healing leg throbbed in counterpoint to her unhappy thoughts. In the wilderness, she’d hated the long, dark evenings. Those were the times she’d felt most alone, when everything she’d lost would come back to haunt her. Knowing she deserved to be miserable had made the loneliness even worse.
The murmur of voices came from the hallway, startling her. She stared at the closed bedroom door. Although most male Daonain shared a house with their littermates and eventually a mate, she’d gotten the impression Ben lived alone, but the male speaking had a deep voice with a resonant timbre similar to Ben’s.
Footsteps, light enough to be a child’s, came from the shared bathroom.
Why hadn’t Ben mentioned his brother, mate, and cubs when they’d talked over the past days? She’d thought they were starting to be friends. Emma tried to shrug off the feeling of hurt.
It would be nice to meet more people. Surely, Ben would have a wonderful mate and littermates.
Don’t descend into feeling envious, bear. But it was difficult not to.
Her mother had been her only family. Being Gather-bred, Emma didn’t know her father, and her mother had handed off Emma’s two male littermates to an infertile shifter family passing through town. She’d only kept Emma because a female cub increased the status of a family. But her mother hadn’t loved her.
Now, Emma had to accept she’d never have a family.
It hurt to give up those dreams, but she had to be honest with herself. She was a big, ungainly bear, and the only time males had wanted her had been because of the hormonal influence of a full moon Gathering. Now…no male would want a female who’d been banished—a punishment saved for only the most heinous of crimes.
Even if the Goddess had forgiven her, she doubted Cedrick or anyone in the Mt. Hood area would forget. As her mother had said, just because a person “didn’t mean to” fixed nothing. A person was responsible for the results of her actions.
Emma hadn’t meant any harm, but harm she’d done. How could she whine that she wouldn’t get a family? Two males were dead because she’d looked at one with longing and had let him kiss her.
No, she’d be grateful for what she had now—for being alive, for a chance to return to the clan again.
The door to Emma’s room from the bathroom opened a crack.
A little girl, possibly three or four years old, peeked in. Her loose brown hair brushed her shoulders. Her curious eyes held the colors of a late summer forest, dark green and brown.
Absolutely adorable.
The girl spotted Emma and stiffened.
Emma smiled at her. Children were open and straightforward, and wonderful. “Hi there.”
Eyes wide, the girl stared and slid her thumb into her mouth.
The habit was familiar. Emma’d also sucked her thumb as a cub…until her mother noticed. When she hadn’t stopped quickly enough, her mother had clawed her thumb so mercilessly that any touch hurt. By the time the gashes healed, she no longer had the habit—just the scars.
Hopefully this cubling would be allowed the harmless comfort.
“Minette?”
The child disappeared back into the shared bathroom.
“Minette?” The lean, muscled man in a black leather jacket and boots who appeared in the doorway took Emma’s breath away. She’d never seen any male so striking. His features said he was Ben’s brother, although he was a few inches shorter and not as big-boned. Midnight-black, wavy hair reached his shoulders; black stubble outlined a chiseled jaw. His expression was cool…and cynical.
His eyes were so dark brown they were almost black and lacked any warmth at all. When his icy gaze ran over her, she felt as if she’d stepped into a snowbank. “You must be Emma.”
“Yes.” Her attempt at a smile fell flat. “Do you live here?”
“We’re moving in, yes.” His answer was terse. “I’m Ryder, Ben’s littermate. My cub and I just arrived.”
“Oh, how nice you…” Her voice trailed off. Oh, this was bad. Ben’d said the only prepared bedrooms were hers and his. At least two rooms would be needed for this male and the cub. And what about the cub’s mother?
Emma was occupying a room they’d need.
And really, if they knew what kind of a person she was, they wouldn’t want her here. Certainly not anywhere near such a sweet little girl.
Dismay swept through her. Somehow, Ben had made her feel welcome, but under this male’s cold assessment, her feeling of belonging had changed. It wasn’t right to be around other people. Not when she was…tarnished.
The female had stopped herself before finishing her sentence, Ryder realized. Obviously, she didn’t think it was nice he and his cub had arrived. On the contrary, from the way her brows were drawing into a frown, she didn’t want them here. Why?
Because she was all settled in and enjoying a good deal?
Ryder studied her for a minute, feeling an unwelcome punch of attraction.
Although obviously half-starved, this female possessed ample curves that would attract a celibate troll, let alone a male as virile as his brother.
Ryder’s mouth tightened. He’d abandoned Ben because of a conniving female who’d wanted him only for what he could give her. She wasn’t the first mercenary female he’d met; wouldn’t be the last.
And here was this female tucked neatly into Ben’s house. She obviously didn’t welcome intruders. No surprise there. What female would give up a cahir with a great house and a good income?
By the God, Ryder felt twenty years older than Ben. His littermate had no idea how greedy females could be. Cahirs were protectors right to the marrow of their bones. And if a child or female needed him, Ben’d give his life to help. The bear had the biggest heart in the territory.
And he could be played. Any male could. Fuck, Ben wouldn’t be able to resist this beautiful female who claimed to be ill.
But was she? She looked healthy enough. Her eyes were clear, her complexion a clear ivory, her color flushed—probably with annoyance at having her plans ruined.
Yeah, she was looking at him as if he’d stolen her breakfast bunny. He decided against attempting to be sociable—the politeness skill sure as hell had never been in his toolbox anyway.
Instead, he tipped his head and backed out of the room.
Ben noticed Ryder leaving Emma’s room. Had she called for help? “Problems?”
“Nah. Minette popped in there, but had already left before I could retrieve her.”
Ben considered him, surprised Emma hadn’t tried to keep Ryder in there to talk. She’d been increasingly bored. “She okay?”
Ryder gave him a puzzled look. “I suppose.” He noticed Minette peeking out of her room. “Kitten, let’s go downstairs and see what’s in your bag.”
Ben walked into Emma’s bedroom and stopped.
Sitting on the bed with her back to him, Emma was trying to pull on a pair of jeans Angie had provided. Before he could stop her, the harsh material scraped over her wound. The pain-filled sound she made twisted his gut.
“What the hell?” He strode across the room and sat on the bed beside her. “Emma, what are you doing?”
She ignored him and managed to get the jeans to her knees. Carefully, she rose from the bed, balanced on one leg, and pulled the waist up and over her round ass.
“What happened? Was Ryder rude?” Difficult to imagine. His taciturn brother might not sweet-talk a female, but he’d never been rude to one.
“No. He didn’t say anything.”
Then what the fuck?
“Sit down and talk to me, li’l female.” He curled his fingers in the waistband and tugged her back onto the bed.
The tears in her eyes defeated the effectiveness of her frustrated glare. “I know you have more people here now. They’ll need this room, so I’ll be out of your fur in a few minutes.”
“Not going to happen. You’re not healed up enough to leave.”
“I am. Now let go of me!” She tried to make him release her jeans and failed. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and a sob escaped her. “You stupid male!”
He saw the moment she lost her hold on her control, but rather than changing to a bear and doing some real damage, she merely thumped his shoulder with her tiny fists. Even when furious, she wouldn’t hurt him.
A snowdrift of pity piled up within him. This was about more than the housing accommodations, wasn’t it?
He lifted her up and yanked her jeans down. Her blows landed on his back like the slight sting of hail. As carefully as he could, he slid her pants off her legs. By the God, she’d torn the fragile tissue covering the hellhound bite. Blood trickled down her leg.
“Fuck, darlin’.” He grabbed gauze pads the healer had left on the nightstand.
As he bandaged her wound, she abandoned the struggle. Tears seeped from beneath her closed lids to run down her cheeks.
Fuming, he took a seat beside her. Didn’t she know what would happen to her out there, injured and helpless?
He sighed. Of course she did. She’d been nearly dead when they found her. And she still hadn’t told him why she’d been living in the forest. He’d let her evade his questions, figuring it was Calum’s job to quiz her, but if this continued, he’d pin her down and not let her up until she answered, no matter how much she cried. Or how badly he’d feel.
Probably much like he felt right now.
Normally, words came fairly easy to him, although often enough, he’d speak without thinking and make a hash of it. He didn’t want to fuck up now. Dammit.
Stroking his thumb over her soft cheek, he calmed his anger so he could talk without growling. “I don’t think the Mother approves of shifters throwing away her gift of life.”
“I’ve already destroyed lives,” she whispered, eyes still closed.
He frowned. She wasn’t very old. Mid-twenties, maybe. At the most. Perhaps a couple of males had asked her to lifemate, and she’d broken their hearts with her refusal? “I doubt you’ve done anything that awful, li’l bear.”
“Ben.” When she looked at him, her beautiful golden-brown eyes held more misery than anyone should endure. “I don’t deserve to live among the clan. Let me go.”
“No. You wouldn’t live a week, even in bear form.” Taking her unbandaged hand, he saw purpling bruises on her knuckles. She must have given him some pretty determined thumps.
Noticing, she turned white. “I’m sorry.” She pulled in a shuddering breath. “I can’t do anything right. Let me leave. Please.”
“Sweetie, that’s not going to happen.”
Her face crumpled, and her lower lip trembled. By the God, she was breaking his heart. Few Daonain survived clanless, so why did she want to retreat back into the wilderness?
She didn’t. He’d seen her light up when he walked in her room or when Angie and the healer visited. This pretty bear loved company, even though her awkwardness spoke of an unknowable amount of time alone.
“I don’t deserve to live among the clan.” Sounded like guilt. Mistakes in the past.
How could he get her off this trail? If ever there was a blundering bear when it came to talking through emotions, that would be him. Perhaps, so was she. Start there. “I don’t know why you feel so guilty, but we’ll talk about it later.”
From the way her lips closed together, he could see that discussion would happen right about…never. Where the fuck was Calum when he needed him?
“But, darlin’, we’re bears,” he said. “We don’t hurt others because we want to play with our prey like cats. We’re not wolves to be pushed into idiocy by the pack. We stumble into stuff because sometimes we’re just clumsy. Yeah?”
Her eyes were still filled with tears, but she nodded.
There. He had a scent to follow, to lead her up and out of this fucking chasm. “Can’t go through life without screwing up. The Mother didn’t make us perfect. All a bear can do after busting something is to try to make amends, much as he can. Even if you can’t fix the damage”—like broken hearts—“you move on, living best as possible.”
She dropped her gaze, staring at where his big hand engulfed hers.
The gigantic bear had gigantic hands. His fingers were callused to the roughness of tree bark yet, despite their strength, held hers gently. The muscles on his forearms were thick, even his wrist bones were huge. He made her feel…little.
Cared for.
He’d stopped talking, letting her turn his words over the way she’d turn over logs to see what rewards were beneath. Was he right?
He said everyone screwed up. Truth.
Bears blundered. Everyone knew that. And she hadn’t deliberately hurt anyone. She’d never had the heart to be cruel. Truth.
“I don’t think the Mother approves of shifters throwing away her gift of life.” She flinched internally at his accuracy. She wouldn’t deliberately harm herself, but trying to survive when each movement still hurt and her bones weren’t melded together would achieve nearly the same thing.
She hadn’t been thinking, just reacting.
With each trawsfur, the Mother’s love would fill her, letting her know she was cherished. To be careless with this gift of life would be wrong. Hurtful to the Goddess. I’m sorry, Mother of All.
Ben said to make amends. If only she could. Gladly, she would have made apologies and stayed, and tried to be daughter to the grieving families, but the Cosantir had banished her. To return now would…would accomplish nothing except resurrect the pain of the bereaved.
Perhaps, she could give of herself here, instead?
As for the rest of Ben’s advice: …you move on, living best as possible. What if people found out what she’d done? “They won’t want me here,” she whispered to herself. “I…”
A snort reminded her someone else was in the room—a pissed-off bear. She looked up.
At the campground, he’d calmly shifted to a grizzly—the most terrifying of animals. Now, in the same way, his easygoing expression had transformed to unyielding strength.
“You gonna let others dictate what you do with your life?” His Texas drawl had thickened with his annoyance.
“I—”
“Are these others your mates? Your Cosantir?”
He obviously thought she’d meant someone specific, not an entire town. But she shook her head.
“A bear doesn’t answer to anyone else. We’re not wolves who need someone handing us orders.” He paused before prompting, “Yeah?”
He had no understanding of the reaction of his clan, and yet… Again, he had a point. She was being a coward, running rather than sticking it out. Could she manage to show this territory she had something to offer?
“You’re stuck here for a while, li’l bear. Don’t worry about the bedroom situation. We got it covered,” Ben said. “But while you’re here, you can work this—whatever it is—out and move past it.” He aimed an uncompromising look at her.
As she nodded, a different kind of guilt washed over her. She’d caused trouble, had hit him, had taken his time. What a sad repayment of his generosity. “I’m sorry, Ben,” she said softly. “I won’t try to run again, at least not until I can do it on four legs.”
His face softened. “That’s a good bear.”
A good bear. The same words master bard had used.
When she smiled at the memory, the look in Ben’s eyes changed to…to something she didn’t quite recognize. And then she did. It was a male’s lazy appreciation of a female.
He ran his knuckles down her cheek.
With his controlled caress and his heated gaze, she was suddenly far too aware of her unclothed state. Of the way the sheet curved over her breasts. Of his strength when he had yanked her back onto the bed despite her pounding fists. Of the warmth of his fingers on her face and the stern line of his jaw.
His head tilted, and in a very deliberate move, he pressed a kiss to her wrist. His firm lips were warm.
She shivered.
A crease appeared in his cheek with his slow smile. “Since the healer said you can escape this room tomorrow, I’ll fetch you for breakfast in the morning.
As he left the room, she sniffed her wrist, knowing what he must have scented—the fragrance of a female’s interest.
Oh, this was bad. Very bad.
*
Downstairs in the great room, Ryder sat on the upholstered chair and dug through Minette’s bag. “Here, kitten. Do you want to play with these?” He scattered several blocks in front of her.
Ben would come down soon. That would be the time to raise the possibility the guest was healthier than she was letting on.
Of course, he could be wrong.
But, by the God, if all she wanted was Ben’s status and money, she’d better rethink. Ryder knew too well the pain of being used, and he wouldn’t let Ben be hurt.
On the dark red area rug, Minette set her favorite stuffed cat to one side and picked up the sanded chunks of wood…with one hand. Her thumb was in her mouth.
His heart ached. She’d made progress over the past week, had almost stopped flinching with his every movement, and started to play, even if quietly. But being faced with new people and places set her back. Poor little cub.
Damn Genevieve for not sending him word about Minette. Damn him for avoiding the Deschutes Territory. For not finding his daughter sooner. For not having a stable family to bring her into.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered.
“You talking to me?” Ben said from the door.
Ryder jumped. “Fucking grizzly. How do you walk without making any noise?”
“Talent. Training.” Ben dropped onto the L-shaped sectional with a sigh.
“Problems?”
“I’d told Emma I only had two bedrooms, so she was worried about occupying one with y’all here. She tried to leave, even though she can barely stand.”
Did Ben believe her? One of Genevieve’s most effective tricks was to dissolve into tears and look helpless. “She cried? And, being too weak to walk, she waited for you…so you could tell her not to leave, right?”
“Not exactly. You’ve turned cynical, cat.” Ben showed his bloodstained hands. “She was so determined to get dressed, she tore open her wound.”
Oh. Fuck. The scent was definitely hers. She had a wound, not an illness. Why had he assumed she was pretending to be sick? Why hadn’t he asked?
Because Genevieve had taken him in whenever she played the ill card.
He snorted in self-disgust. “I got caught up in chasing my own tail. Sorry. What injury does she have?”
Ben hesitated. “Got her leg busted and sliced up in the mountains. But, ah…she was alone and didn’t get found for a couple of weeks. The healer repaired what he could, but full healing will take longer.”
Ben went into the kitchen. The faucet came on as he washed his hands.
A female? Hurt and alone? And she hadn’t seen a healer for two weeks? He imagined the pretty female upstairs. Trying to get dressed. Hurting herself. And he’d been pretty fucking cold to her. Fuck, Griz should smack him upside the head.
Ben returned with two glasses of iced tea and set one in front of Ryder. He smiled at Minette’s construction of a balanced Roman arch-type bridge. “You got a budding mechanical engineer there.”
“She reminds me of you with her constant building projects. But she seems to be more into design than construction.”
“How about you?” Ben’s gaze stayed on the cub. “What have you been doing all these years?”
“I…” The question slashed claws across his heart. Littermates stayed together. The bond between brothers reached deep into their souls. One shouldn’t have to ask the other about jobs and mates.
But life was what it was.
Thorny undergrowth or not, the direct route was often the best trail to take back home. He’d simply lay out the intervening years. “When Genevieve and I lived together, I started selling my woodworking at craft fairs and festivals. After we split, I moved to the Garibaldi Territory in Canada. Worked winters, did the fair circuit during the summers.”
“Do you need to go get your tools?”
Ryder hesitated before baring his hopes. “I wanted to mend things between us. Emptied my shop and was already on my way here when I heard about Minette. I left the trailer in Bellingham, so I didn’t look…presumptuous.”
Ben actually grinned. “Presumptuous.”
“Yeah, well, if you have a place for my stuff, Minette and I’ll go get the trailer tomorrow.”
“Got a building out back. It’d be perfect for you.” Ben smiled slowly. “I might have known you’d not give up your wood. Bet you do well.”
Ryder’s shoulders eased. “Aye. In between the craft fair tidbits, I make custom furniture, which pays really well. Heather, a wolf in Rainier Territory, taught me to invest the profits in the stock market. I’ve got money, bro.”
“Yeah? You’ve always been canny with finances.”
“I don’t lack for dollars.” The next words emerged with more difficulty. “It’s family I’m short on.”
For an eternity, his brother didn’t speak. Finally came the acknowledgment and agreement. “Yeah.”
Maybe the way home would be filled with obstacles, but they’d found the right trail.