Chapter Four – Nevis

As her words sunk in, he wanted to stand up and announce to her that she was his mate and he was a bear shifter. At some point, she was going to find out, and when she did, Nevis did not want her to think he had concealed it from her.

The only thing holding him back was the shock she had already received today, and the snowstorm outside. If she ran into the snow, thinking she was fleeing a monster, then he would have to hunt her down and bring her back. Which might be misread as holding her captive.

Or maybe there was another way. He could tell her, and if she wanted nothing to do with him, then he could shift into his bear and go and find a place to sleep outside.

And leave her unprotected? his bear asked.

His bear was right. The two would-be kidnappers were out there, and if they had set up such an elaborate ruse to get her money, they were unlikely to walk away empty-handed.

“What made you come into the mountains?” he asked, trying to get as much information from her about her would-be kidnappers as possible, without resorting to interrogation.

“It was my dad’s idea.” She snuggled into him, and he tightened his arms around her, wanting to warm her and make her feel safe. “I think he knew what kind of man Ross is. He’s good at reading people.”

“Is he?” Nevis asked, feeling his hope diminishing. What would a man like Harlan Remington think of a bear shifter who refused to step into his birthright and take over his father’s company?

“Yes. Always has been. And looking back, he never really liked Ross. He never said anything to me directly. My dad likes me to make my own decisions and go my own way.”

“He doesn’t pressure you to stay in business?” Nevis asked, feeling a little easier.

“Not really. But then he raised me to understand life is what we make it and I have a duty to the employees at my company, and his. They rely on us, and we rely on them. You have to make sure they have secure jobs, and wages. Happy workers are productive workers.” Her voice was a little slurred, as if she were drunk. Shifting his weight, he looked down at her, to see her eyelids drooping.

“I’ve never looked at it like that,” Nevis admitted.

“Harlan has a different outlook on life than most people.” She yawned. “I think he knew that if Ross and I had to depend on each other, really depend on each other, that I would see he was not the man for me.”

“Don’t feel too bad,” Nevis said. “He missed the fact that Ross was planning to kidnap you.”

“True. I just hope Harlan doesn’t worry if he thinks they have me…”

Chrysi’s breathing was deep and slow. She was asleep. Nevis sat for a while, staring at the fire, listening to her inhale and exhale, and indulging himself in the closeness of her body to his. He bent his head and sniffed her hair, the scent indelibly etched on his very soul.

While he sat with her, he tried to figure out a plan. None of this was going to be easy. But their main focus had to be getting through the storm in one piece. Then he would go and visit the cave and try to deal with Ross and his friend Bart, and get their satellite phone from them. If that proved impossible, he would guide Chrysi out of the mountains as quickly as possible. Hopefully, on the lower slopes, they could get a cell phone to work. Chrysi would be able to call her father, tell him she was safe, and then call Sheriff Brad.

If the two men made it off the mountain before Brad arrested them, at least the police would know who they were and might be able to track them down. Everyone left a trail.

Eventually, if somewhat reluctantly, Nevis moved, sliding his hands under Chrysi and lifting her up in his arms. He held her close to his chest, looking at her pale face. For a moment he stood staring at her. She was beautiful, and she was his. Somehow he would make her see that. Make her feel what he felt. Make her his.

Laying her down gently on the sofa, he fetched another blanket and stoked the fire, then he fed it some more wood, banking it up so it would give them warmth all night. Then he went to the kitchen, fed the stove, and did the same before returning to the hearth, where he placed a pillow and some blankets on the floor, and curled up to sleep.

All through the night, he woke to check on Chrysi and stoke the fire. In the early pale dawn light, he padded to the window and looked out. The snowfall had reached the level of the porch and was now spilling over, creeping closer to the doorway. The depth of the snow gave him some comfort. There was no way Bart and Ross would venture out in this weather. Unless they had a death wish. And if Nevis knew men at all, they would not.

The kind of men who would attempt to kidnap and ransom a woman were selfish, and not likely to risk their lives. They would sit up in their little cave, not giving a thought to whether she was alive or dead.

His hands curled into fists, and inside his head his bear snarled. He would deal with them. Either before they left the mountain, or after, he would make sure they knew never to come near Chrysi again.

As Nevis returned to the fire and sat down in its warm glow, his eyes rested on her hand, and the ring she wore. His fingers itched to reach out, slide it off her finger, and replace it with his own, as a sign she would only ever belong to him. But it had to be her decision to remove it.

He settled down, his head on the pillow. There was no rush. They were born to be together.

Yet as he closed his eyes, another thought came to him. She led the kind of life he had shunned. Nevis had walked away from his father’s business. While Chrysi was willing to embrace the business legacy her father wanted to bestow upon her.

Was fate really so cruel, that it would force him to conform? Was he sentenced to a life away from the wilds? Away from the adventures he craved?

As he dozed in the fire’s warm glow, he realized that all that mattered was being with Chrysi, and if fate really knew what it was doing, they would find some kind of compromise. Because that was what real love was all about.

He might not want to take the reins of his father’s company, he might not want to aspire to be a rich man of business. However, his father had taught him one valuable lesson that he would treasure and cherish no matter what the future held. Family mattered. Above all else, it was family that was important. A lesson both father and son had begun to forget.

As he slipped deeper under the blanket of sleep, he promised himself he would not let the growing rift between him and his father keep him away from his family any longer. He would visit them all, the first chance he got, and try to heal the wound left by his reluctance to abandon the life he had carved out for himself.

Photography was his world. Capturing moments in time, moments in nature that would never be repeated. And even the photographs he took for Bear Creek News, where he worked part-time, made him happy. From a child holding a red balloon, to the first day of school for the town’s children, to the proud moment Mrs. Lassiter won first prize for her carrots, beating last year’s winner—Mr. Lassiter. It was a patchwork quilt of life that he saw through the lens and captured forever.

And now he had a mate to share it with. A mate whose face he would capture a thousand times, and never see the same expression, the same look, the same smile more than once. One day he would also capture the faces of their children, and a new love affair with the camera would begin as he chased around after them, cataloging their lives, while making memories that would be theirs to share.