Rescued & Ravished: An Alpha's Conquest (A Paranormal Ménage Romance) (34 page)

Nothing seemed hopeful. She was back on stupid Storm Isle and back in his cabin, trapped, awaiting sentencing for “trespass.”

And there was no way she was going to nod off. So she got up and padded into the living room, where, unshockingly—she’d smelled the smoked-cedar-and-sweet-moss scent of the fire going—Dane was still awake.

“Ginger.” He looked up from where he’d been sitting on the couch, staring into the grate across the cottonwood coffee table and the back of the matching, facing sofa. “You’re awake.”

She was wrapped in a quilt, sad-faced. “Can I stay up with you?”

“Come here.”

She padded over to the plush leather couch and sat next to him, tucking her legs up off the floor. The fire was dancing beautifully past its screen.

“You can’t sleep?” he asked, watching her.

“No.” She hooked some hair behind her ear. “Really hurt my own case, didn’t I? Trying to scarm?”

He hesitated. “Nothing is going to happen to you.”

“The judgment’s tomorrow, isn’t it?” She tightened the quilt around her shoulders.

“Tomorrow night.”

“What’s it going to be like?” She looked at him. “Tell me what’s going to happen.”

He ran a hand through his hair. She wished she could do that to him. “The elders will be there. Other important bears from the clans. Think of it like a law court.”

“‘Like’ a law court?”

“Well… think of it like a law court from the Neolithic.” He sighed. “It’ll be outside, at night. By bonfire. Gunnar and I will bring our charges against each other, and then each of us will speak in our own defense. The elders will listen and ask questions, then render their verdict.”

“What happens to me if they… if we lose?”

“Nothing. I said I wouldn’t let—”

“Dane.” She interrupted him soberly. “Answer me seriously.”

He gazed at her, the firelight reflected in the curve of his eyes. “Traditionally… human consorts and interlopers were… savaged.”

“Savaged.”

“Mauled.”

“By who?”

“It depends.” His mouth tightened. “They could sentence me to do it. Gunnar could agitate for the ‘right.’ One of the elders could enact the penalty. But like I said, I won’t let—”

“Well, given the fact that there are hundreds of fucking werebears on this hellish little island,” she whispered thinly, feeling faint, “I don’t think you have much of a choice.”

“Don’t assume you know my chances. They’re afraid of me,” he said lowly, and she heard a spark of violence in his voice. “Afraid, and with reason. I could keep them back, Ginger. Fight them off. Hold them long enough for us to make it to the yacht.”

She looked at him closely, trying to see if he meant it—really meant it. But as far as she could tell, he did: his expression was serious.

“Are you going to leave the cutter anchored off the island’s shoulder, then? So it’s easier to reach?” she asked quietly. “Not bring it back to the dock?”

“No. I have to tie it up again, or it will be obvious that I’m not planning to respect a negative verdict. I’m doing everything I can to convince the council that I won’t run, and take you with me, if they rule against us.”

“I see.” She did. “That’s why you brought me back, isn’t it? When I ran. To prove you can be trusted to respect these laws?”

“There’s still a chance they’ll clear us, Ginger,” he said, putting a hand on her thigh and squeezing. “Then you won’t have to run and hide, or live in fear. It’s worth waiting until the council meeting to find out.”

“Is it?” She put her hand over his, for the comfort of it; he threaded his fingers up through hers. “I’m scared.”

That was an understatement. Just thinking about the trial made her feel like she had the stomach flu—queasy and cold and sore. If she threw up on his coffee table, would he blame her?

“I’m
so
scared,” she admitted unsteadily.

“Ginger… I promise I’ll—”

“And I’m sorry,” she cut in, swallowing. “I’m sorry I’ve complicated your life like this.” Her voice wavered. “I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused. For putting you in this situation. I never meant—never imagined—”

“Shh.” He leaned close, spoke into her hair. “Don’t apologize, Ginger. You have nothing to be sorry for. You didn’t know you’d find this world here.”

“I want you to protect me,” she whispered shakily. “I need you to. But I hate that you’re risking everything you have here for the sake of some
stupid
secretary. I feel so guilty, Dane—I’m scared, really scared—but I also just feel so
guilty
, I—”

“Some secretary?” he repeated, his voice low. “Is that what you think, Ginger?”

“What? What should I think?” She twisted back to look at him, and was shocked to see his eyes were bright as fire. Her skin prickled with goose bumps.

“Tell me what you think you are to me.”

“I—don’t… your assistant.”

He stared at her; a shiver ran up her back.

“No.”

“Well, obviously I’m fired, but—”

“My God, Ginger, have you never seen the way I look at you?”

What?
“Look at me?” she repeated quietly. She wasn’t sure she’d noticed much of anything these past few days, with the stress and the shock and… but the way he was looking at her now—intent, piercing, his gaze hot enough to melt metal—she could see
that
.

“Dane?” she murmured, uncertain.

“I’ve always wanted you,” he said, and his voice was rough—hungry. “Always.”

She flushed; a hand came up automatically to cover her mouth.
What!?

“And the longer I’ve spent with you, the more I’ve felt for you.”

“You—want me?” she asked, flabbergasted.
Felt for me?

“Did you honestly think I didn’t?”

“Yes!” She stood up, leaving the quilt on the couch. “
Yes
! You? You’re gorgeous and—rich—and—talented—”

“You’re gorgeous, Ginger. And you’re talented.”

“I’m not a lawyer.”

“Is that the only kind of talent there is?” He reached for her, pulled her back down onto the sofa. “I respect you. I enjoy you. You’re smart and capable… brave. A lot more fun than I’ve ever been.” He ran his fingers down the side of her neck. The light, surprising pleasure of it was almost unbearable. “You were so helpful to me. I could depend on you—trust you. That meant a great deal to me.”

“Dane—”

“Ginger.” He leaned in, tried to kiss her mouth—but she turned her face away. His lips grazed her ear, filling her stomach with heat.

“I… I had sex with Hunter,” she faltered, feeling giddy, ashamed, confused.

“For survival. Right? You stole from him.”

“And that’s excusable to you?”

“It’s understandable.” He kissed her temple; her underwear flooded. “You’re ingenious, Ginger… wily, when you have to be. Lively. You won’t lie down and die and I admire that.”

“But—”

“Sex with us is different. It’s a primal urge, common, and it doesn’t have to be binding. Only a few things truly
are
binding… and if he hasn’t done them to you, then I don’t—”

“I don’t want to be bound to anyone. To either of you,” she blurted, even though he nipped the rim of her ear and her nipples sharpened to points. “I can’t—think about this now. I’m afraid I’m going to die, Dane! I can’t—”

“Alright. Shhh.” He nuzzled her hair, like an affectionate animal. “Don’t think about it yet… I understand, Ginger. But trust that you’re safe with me.”

“I—I do.” That was true. She did. At least, she believed she was as safe as he could make her. That might not be enough, against the combined manpower of the island’s bears and the disapproval of the elders. “I, um—I just—feel like I have to remind you that—humans aren’t—we aren’t—”

You can’t be with me. You remember that, right, Dane? It’s against ursine law. Isn’t that what all of this is about? The crime of you being with me?
But her throat locked up, and she let it go.

“It’s late.” His breath was hot on her neck. “Try and sleep.”

“I can’t.”

“You can. Go back to bed and lie down and count backwards.”

“I don’t want to be alone.” As soon as she said it she winced.
That sounds like a two-dollar come-on. Smooth, Ginger.

“Then sleep right here.” He put a strong hand on her shoulder and pressed her close to him. “Against me.”

She didn’t resist. She curled up close to him and closed her eyes, counting backward. The heat and strength of his body soothed her. Eventually she was able to drift off, and not dream.

He couldn’t forget the girl.

Red-haired and hazel-eyed and beautifully made. Soft to touch, soft to smell. He coveted her.

Hadn’t the elders told him he needed a woman? Hadn’t they challenged him to find one?

And he’d found one. He’d spent himself thinking of her half a dozen times since the night he’d managed to lay his hands on her. The hot fullness of her breast… she hadn’t liked it when he’d squeezed it, had she? But the way she’d stiffened, afraid, had made him hard…

She had no use for a scrawny black bear, did she? A seer from Saskatchewan? But he had a use for her.

He had to have her.

He had to have her, even if it came to fangs and claws with MacAlister. He
must
have her.

He
would
have her.

All too soon, Ginger was awake.

Awake, and in Dane’s bed. He must have carried her there sometime in the night.

What a prince.

She stretched and yawned cattishly; the covers were deliciously warm. She knew she should get up, but a soft rhythm of rain against the windows lulled her back into a doze. It was easy to drift back toward sleep…

The bedroom door opened, startling her. She sat up quickly—but it was just Dane, holding a mug. He came to sit on the edge of the bed and handed the drink off to her.

“Black tea with mint. It’ll help you wake up.”

“Thank you,” she said, meaning it.
Thoughtful.
She tried it: it had a cool, dark kick. “It’s good.”

“How did you sleep?”

“Alright.” She sipped. “How about you?”

“I didn’t.”

“Dane! You didn’t?”

“It’s alright. I can go a few days without it with no harm done.”

“Everyone thinks that, and everyone’s wrong.”

“I’m not wrong.” He smiled slightly. “Grizzly bears are awake for twenty out of twenty-four hours in the autumn, when it’s forage time. Do you know how little sleep that is? I’m fine.”

She frowned at him. “You sure have a lot of… animal… superpowers.”

He actually chuckled. “Superpowers? I’ve never thought of it that way. Maybe. There are drawbacks, though.”

“Cat mentioned something about that. Drawbacks.” She cocked her head. “Like… how all your… animal instincts keep you from living life like normal people.”

“They do. That’s part of why I leave the city whenever possible—so I can be a bear.”

“Oh yeah? So, you go to the woods”—she gestured to the window—“become a bear, and—what? Prevent forest fires?”

He laughed again, a gorgeous sound. “So I can do what bears do, Ginger. Hunt. Fish. Roam.” He shrugged. “It takes a lot of self-control for me to live among humans. I have to drop the charade sometimes, or I risk losing my restraint.”

“Why
do
you live with us?” she asked. “Shifters don’t seem to like us or respect us. I mean, what’s the appeal?”

“The possibility of success is the appeal,” he said seriously. “My family built a small fortune timbering over the past two centuries. Enough for me to pay for schools, living expenses, degrees—enough, in short, for me to transfer myself into your society. I’m a bear, it’s true, but I want more from life than these same forests, these same coasts. I want commerce. I want professionalization. I want respect.” There was a glimmer of gold in his eyes. “I want the challenge—the thrill—of litigation and defense. I want material luxury.
Wealth
.” His hand closed on her knee, squeezed. “I want the world. The whole world.”

“Where
is
your family?” She leaned back on the headboard, watching him. His ambition was almost too much, too intense, but it was also—attractive. Very. A man with this level of determination—and this level of achievement—was as rare as raw silver. It… well, it turned her on. “No one’s mentioned—”

“My clan’s extinguished,” he answered, speaking across her. “We’d been dwindling for generations. There’s just me left.”

She flushed, embarrassed; her fingers tightened on the mug. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t be sorry. I never really knew them. My mother died when I was a cub.” He shifted, crossing his arms; she had to admire the way it made his biceps harder. “It was an ancient clan, well-respected… powerful, even. Now I’m the last.”

There was the bass rumble of thunder, far away. Out at sea, maybe.

“Is that hard?” she asked slowly, honestly sympathetic. “I mean… to represent a whole lineage alone…”

He looked at her closely, penetratingly. “You’re kind to ask that, Ginger. Yes. Sometimes it’s hard. But we all have responsibilities we can’t walk away from. Identities we can’t ignore…”

She had the urge to kiss him, or at least to cuddle close against him—to comfort him, somehow, because she could hear how tired he was. Tired, and alone.

So she set her mug on the nightstand, crawled forward, and pressed a light kiss to his unshaven cheek. He
mm
’d, turned into it a little.

“Ginger…”

“Are you lonely?” she whispered.

“Yes,” he confessed lowly. “But I didn’t realize how much until I met you.”

“Dane…” She knew she should back off. But his heat, his closeness, his smell—smoked wood and hot skin—was intoxicating, especially on a cold, rainy morning like this. “What do you even want from me?”

“Your touch… at least, to start with,” he breathed. “Touch me, Ginger. I’m begging you.”

Touch him how? Where? Just—touch him? Any way I want?

Tentatively, and unable to think clearly about whether it was a good idea or a bad one, she trailed some soft, hot kisses down his neck. He growled with pleasure, and began to unbutton the front of his shirt, giving her more skin to tease.

He tasted like he smelled—cedar-y—and she loved it. She wriggled closer to him, teething his throat, and his arm went around her.