Battered Not Broken (13 page)

Dressed after their shower, Gillian, followed
by her three men proceeded to the living room where Ethel, her
husbands, and the police awaited. As she settled in a chair, her
men to either side and behind, surrounding her. Touching their
hands in reassurance, she answered each question posed by the
police, cooperating fully.

Gillian detailed each instance of abuse she
suffered at Kyle’s hands before finally running in her desperation
to get away from him. After running for days, he’d always managed
to find her. The last time he found her, just before she’d stumbled
upon the Bearclaws' cabin, he’d nearly choked her to death. She
pulled her turtleneck sweater aside, revealing the still healing
angry, purple bruises his hands had left.

Gillian’s story jumped to Kyle’s arrival at
the Bearclaw cabin via breaking through a window and surprising her
in the bathroom. He’d forced her, at gunpoint, to leave the house,
urging her toward the river. At some point, beatings began and her
memory became fuzzy. The one clear thought she had was of jumping
into the river, in a desperate attempt to escape him.

The men added their bits and pieces to the
story then, explaining their confrontation with Kyle and finding
Gillian, bruised and unconscious downriver.

By the time the police left the cabin, they’d
been satisfied that while Kyle had been guilty of numerous crimes,
his death had been of his own making and Max was lucky to have
gotten away with a simple gunshot wound to the shoulder. The search
and rescue team found Kyle’s body downstream, washed up on the
bank. While Gillian was happy to be safe from him forever, she
shivered at the memory of the freezing river. She wouldn’t have
wished such a death on anyone, even Kyle.

* * *

After a few days, Ethel, whom she
affectionately called “Mom” and her three husbands, “Dad”, “Pop”,
and “Father”, left the four of them to return home. But not before
giving Gillian instructions on how to care for Max’s shoulder and
giving the three brothers strict instructions on how gentle and
honest
they needed to be with Gillian. Gentle, Gillian could
understand, but
honest?
What was that all about?

The moment Ethel and her husbands pulled out
of the driveway, Gillian assumed they’d get back to the gentle
touches and sexual exploration they’d started the week before. But
they didn’t. Instead, the brothers kept their distance. Confused,
she assumed their reserved behavior resulted from their mother’s
warning. Brushing off their behavior, she had gone to bed, alone,
but resolved to bring the four of them together again. The
lovemaking they’d shared had been too monumental not to repeat.

The following morning, after waking alone in
the guest bedroom, Gillian found out the meaning behind Ethel’s
instructions on honesty. Padding into the kitchen, Max plopped a
heaping pile of French toast in front of her. Inhaling the sweet,
cinnamon fragrance, she picked up her fork, prepared to dig in.

“Where are Ronan and Conner?” She shoved a
forkful of the heated, egg-soaked bread into her mouth. It needed
more syrup. Drizzling the sugary syrup on the slices, she topped it
off with confectioner’s sugar.
Perfect.

“They’re, um, out.” Max turned from her and
went to work cleaning the kitchen. Interesting, since she hadn’t
seen him cook or clean in the week and a half she’d known him. Make
messes and not clean them up, sure. But never cook
and
clean
up after himself. Something was going on.

Snagging a piece of bacon from a nearby
plate, she crunched the crispy meat, chewing as she debated her
next move. What were they up to? Not wanting to ruin their plans,
she figured she’d play along, for now.

But she could still make him sweat, right?
“When will they be back? Did they go to town?”

Max froze at the stove, dropping one of the
pans back onto a burner. Wiping his hands on his pants, he answered
Gillian. “Um, no. They…they just went out for a walk.”

“A walk, huh? Wow. It’s awfully cold for a
walk,” she deadpanned. Taking another bite of bacon, she washed it
down with some orange juice, giving him a moment to formulate a
response.

“Yeah, you know, a walk. They wanted to take
a look around the property. With some coffee and a jacket, it’s not
too cold.” He mumbled something else below his breath. She thought
she heard the word “bear”, but couldn’t be sure.

Poking the man a little, she replied. “A
walk? Maybe we should join them. I can be dressed in no time
and…”

Max cut her off. “Perfect. Go get dressed and
I’ll get the coffee.” It seemed as if a great weight had lifted
from his shoulders at her suggestion.

Confused, she figured she’d continue to play
along. What harm could it do? Finishing the remnants of her
breakfast, she bounded from the chair, pressed a quick “thank you”
kiss to Max’s cheek and left him to get dressed.

Minutes later, thermos in hand, they stepped
onto the porch. A gust of wind enveloped them, burrowing through
her layers with ease. Shivering, she changed her mind. Let the men
wander the snow and cold, she’d stay warm in the house until they
returned,
thankyouverymuch.

Opening her mouth to inform Max of her
decision, she snapped it shut with a click of her teeth and mumbled
through lips fear kept trapped together. “Bbbbear…”

Oh, God! Not just one…two! Two bears trundled
from the forest and toward them. One slow, lumbering step at a
time. Panicked, she dashed to the back door, anxious for the
relative safety the cabin could provide. Max blocked her path,
gripping her shoulders.

“Bears, Max! Bears!”
Idiot!
Didn’t he
see them, how could he not? They had to weigh nearly a ton each and
they drew closer with each passing second. They’d be upon them at
any moment. She didn’t live through Kyle’s attack to end up being
some wild animal’s dinner. Beating on Max’s chest, she pleaded.
“Move! Max, the bears are coming. Move Max, please.”

Tears burned her eyes, the knowledge of her
inevitable death striking home. Max wiped her tears, whispering
soothing words as his strong hands bodily turned her around. He’d
gone crazy. This had to be some ancient Indian ritual sacrifice of
some kind. They had lulled her into loving them and now the bear
God needed a not-so-virginal sacrifice.

Squeezing her eyes shut tight, she listened
as the animals moved closer. The sound of their giant paws
depressing into the snow with every step echoed in her ears. The
click of their nails scratching against the wood planks of the
porch sent her heart into overdrive. Closer, so much closer and Max
wouldn’t let her go, let her run.

Gillian needed to run. Run fast, and run far,
and maybe they wouldn’t catch her, eat her. The gentle breathing of
the animals sounded so close, but she wouldn’t open her eyes,
wouldn’t. Terror held her firmly in its grasp, refusing to let go.
Her heart pounded in her chest, threatening to burst; her breathing
came in short, shallow gasps.

“Gillian, open your eyes,” Max murmured in
her ear.

She whimpered and pressed back against him.
Maybe if she pushed hard enough, she could go straight through him
and get into the house—anything to get away from the humongous
beasts in front of her.

The scent of hickory smoke and earth teased
her nostrils, pulling memories from her mind, but she pushed them
back. Now was not the time to remember her men, the men who had
sacrificed her to bears.
Bears!

A heated, wet tongue flicked the tips of her
fingers on her right hand and she jerked to the left. When the
action repeated on her left hand, she jerked to the right. The
beasts were toying with her, playing games with their food before
they devoured it. A tear leaked from beneath her lashes only to
have it lapped away by one of the bears, starting a rushing torrent
of tears. God, it had tasted her—probably to see if she was worth
eating.

“Gilly, love, open your eyes,” Max pleaded.
His voice was a soothing, yet harsh whisper.

“No.” She pushed the word past her tightened
lips.

A cold, wet nose brushed the palm of her
hand, moving it until her palm rested on the bear’s muzzle. At
least, she assumed it was his muzzle. Again, the other bear seemed
to mirror the action until her hand rested on both of them.

“Just a little, Gilly. They won’t hurt you.
They just want to show you,” Max begged again. Slitting her eyes,
she met the gaze of one bear and then the other, their large black
eyes staring at her so intently. Any second now they’d each be
dining on hand tartar. “See. They won’t hurt you, Gilly. Never
you.”

Max brushed his lips over her ear, pressing a
kiss just below her earlobe. Damn the man for knowing about one of
her “spots”.

When the black bears rose to their feet and
backed away from them, she did the same, pressing against Max. She
begged him without words to move away, but he didn’t listen.
Instead, he held her fast, forcing her to remain still.

What happened next caused her heart to stop
as she gasped for breath.
It couldn’t be.
It wasn’t natural.
And yet, it took place before her eyes. If she hadn’t watched it
from beginning to end, she wouldn’t have believed it herself.

A gray swirling mist wafted from beneath the
bear’s feet, twirling and twining around their limbs until the
bears stood covered in the fog. Seconds ticked by as they were
engulfed completely by the unnatural phenomenon until the great
mist dissipated, receding back into the ground from whence it came,
leaving…
Leaving two men in the bears’ place?
Ronan and
Conner knelt before her, shaking from the cold, but they were her
men.

Max stepped aside, bringing her with him and
allowing the naked Ronan and Conner to pass by them. They rushed
through the door and Gillian, after wrenching free of Max’s grasp,
followed hot on their heels.

“What…” she yelled, grabbing their attention
as they yanked on sweat pants. “Was that?”

Max slid his arms around her waist from
behind, but she quickly sidestepped his embrace.
Hell, no.
She wouldn’t give him that power again. “We thought it would be
best to show you the truth about us, rather than try and tell you.
We didn’t think you’d be so scared.”

Bringing a hand to her mouth, she kept her
words bottled for a moment, afraid her fear would get the better of
her and she’d say something she didn’t truly mean. After a few
moments, Gillian spoke. “After I nearly tore a hole through Conner
to get home after seeing a bear near the river, what made you think
this would be a better scenario?”

Conner had the grace to blush before
answering. “Mom said the same thing.”

“Well, your mother was right. Who would have
thought that a woman who is married to three men as well as having
raised three might know what she was talking about!” Gillian’s
voice rose as she spoke until she screamed the last word.

“We thought…” Ronan started, but his words
died as Gillian slid down the wall, her legs unable to support her.
The shock of seeing two bears and thinking she was about to be
eaten by them had drained her of all energy. “God, Gilly!”

Gillian batted at the hands thrust toward
her. She didn’t want to be snuggled and hugged by them, she was too
mad and she told them so. “Just because I can’t stand and I need
your help getting up doesn’t mean you’re forgiven. How dare you,”
she punched Ronan in the chest, “scare me like that? You ass. All
of you are asses. I don’t care if some great big fog comes up and
changes you into bears, deep down, the fog didn’t get it right and
you’re jackasses.”

She allowed Ronan to gather her in his arms
and didn’t put up a fuss when he laid her gently on the bed in the
spare bedroom.

When the three men moved to leave, she
stopped them. “Oh no. You’re staying and I’m getting answers.
Now.”

They froze in their tracks, each of them
turning slowly to face her, a look of sheer terror painted on their
faces. Good. Now they knew what it was like to be scared out of
their minds.

Settling around her on the bed, they each
proffered answers to her questions, sharing snippets of their
tribe’s history as well as the history of their family. They
explained that their tribe consisted of all the Indians deemed
“possessed” by the ancient tribes. Coming together, the men and
women who held an animal within founded their own tribe, the
Anikotas, which remained closely connected, even today. Now,
scattered across the country, the people of the Anikota kept in
touch through annual gatherings, but their tight bond held through
their animal counterparts always remained. Their tribe didn’t
consist of only bears, but of every creature known to man. And each
tribe member, whether man or woman, had a drive to find their mate
unlike any other person they knew.

Their family, the Bearclaws, consisted of,
well, bears. Typically, a Bearclaw wife gave birth to twins or
triplets, and those siblings sought their one true mate to complete
them—sometimes searching for years before finding their mate. The
ability to transform from human to animal rested solely of those
born into the Anikota tribe. But an Anikota mate, once the ritual
of mating had been completed, could share the thoughts of their
counterpart.

“And I’m your mate?” Gillian asked as they
finished answering her other questions. She needed to know if her
feelings were returned.

“Yes,” they answered in unison, their voices
blending and mixing into one.

“Are you ours?” Ronan, her deep, quiet,
Ronan, asked the question, barely a whisper.

Gillian answered, just as softly, “Yes.”

Ronan tensed as her admission washed through
him. He could see his brothers had the same reaction. He knew what
they felt as their bears woke from their slumber within and the
spirits of man and beast warred for domination. Ronan had been
trained by their fathers to guide the rite of claiming, to ensure
the four of them survived and enjoyed the mating to come. A
pre-determined sequence of events had to take place first. They
would have to see to their mates needs before satisfying their own
within her body.