Tempted by the Bear - Complete (39 page)

I
sabelle

J
ean Luc’s
kiss tastes like the sea and a flavor that’s uniquely him. The summer breeze surrounds us in an embrace as we connect our naked human bodies on his private beach. As our tongues dance I realize our attraction is something beyond anything I’ve ever craved. I suppose it’s good I didn’t know, because now that I’m experiencing it, I’m never going to want to live without him. When he moves his mouth to my neck I arch back and press my hips into him. Jean Luc’s hard length is thick between us, and I reach for it. Silky-smooth skin is hot in my hand.

He groans when I squeeze his cock and slide my grip down to the base. Jean Luc grabs my hips and lowers himself to his knees as he nips at me with his lips on the way. His strong hands grasp my butt, and I widen my stance to give him access. One swipe of his tongue on my folds, and my legs tremble as they threaten to give out on me. I gasp, “Oh, god.”

“Hold on,” says Jean Luc as he lets go of me and stands. He glances around and moves toward his shirt he left discarded on the beach. When he returns to me, he places the tee on the ground. “Place your bottom on that. I need way more than a taste.”

I lower myself and lie back on the cool sand. It’s gritty beneath my shoulders, but the moment Jean Luc places his mouth on my sex, I’m wrapped up in the pleasure he brings. It’s as if he’s known me before, because my destined mate manages to find every sensitive spot to make me cry out with my release quickly. He doesn’t stop as I quake beneath him, and Jean Luc’s fingers work me as he pushes for more.

When I’ve come a second time he lifts up to hover over me. I place my hand on his chest, and the muscles below my palm flex as he leans down. I’m reminded of the vision of Jean Luc when I thought he was God. I gaze into the teal eyes and realize he is my savior. At this moment I believe my true mate can give me a life without torture. I touch the mouth that brought me physical pleasure and whisper, “Fill me.”

He lowers his lips to mine, and our combined flavor makes me want to drink him in. My fingers tangle in his hair when Jean Luc guides his cock into me as he breaks away from our kiss. Thrusting into me quickly, he drives with growing need, and now my moans are not the only sound as Jean Luc’s climax approaches. A low, guttural growl comes from him, and his fangs poke out as he says, “Save me, Isabelle.”

I know he’s giving me a choice, and my heart aches that a man who barely knows me is willing to let me decide our fate. I grab the back of his neck and growl back as I yank him down. My canines sink into his shoulder, and warm blood fills my mouth as he explodes with his orgasm. My bite multiplies his pleasure, and when he finishes, Jean Luc collapses onto me. His weight is heavy, and I’m aware that the T-shirt is no longer under me before I flip him onto his back to lick his wound and seal his skin like I sealed our bond.

Jean Luc lets out a sigh and pulls me down to lie on top of his body. His finger traces a circle on my butt as he whispers in French to me. I ask, “What are you saying?”

“I’m making you promises.” His hand moves between my legs, and he strokes my tender sex. I quiver beneath his touch. “You will never regret this, Isabelle.”

I mewl as he slips two digits into me, and I’m like a rag doll when he turns us over so that he’s on top now. My hips rock as he pumps his fingers in and out of me. He asks, “You want more, no?”

I whimper. “Yes. I want it all.” And I do. I want the true mate bond to be complete. I want to be with this man for life. A life without the destiny of insanity, and one with a man that will complete me in a way I never dreamed possible. I throw my head back and offer up my chest to my true mate. “Save me, Jean Luc.”

His thumb rubs my clit, and my moans become louder as I climb. My eyes flutter shut as he lowers his mouth to my breasts, and the hot breath of his exhalation tickles before sharp teeth prick and puncture my flesh. I scream as my climax and his bite take me to another world. A world where Isabelle De Rozier is whole, safe, and sane.

I’m not sure how long we lie on the beach in a sleepy state, and I don’t want to move when Jean Luc leans up on an elbow to stare down at me as he says, “You need to have my chowder now. And you’d better like it, because it’s the final test.”

I trace his lower lip with my finger before he sucks it in. I ask, “You’d cast me off into the sea if I hate it?”

He nods as he takes my hand to kiss my palm. “No self-respecting Ouellette hates chowder.”

“Ah. Well then, let’s go,” I say.

Jean Luc stands first, and his T-shirt snaps as he shakes off sand. My mate rolls up the cotton hem and lifts it over my head. The soft fabric slithers over my skin like his touch, and his scent wafts up to my nose as the heat of my body releases it. I inhale it and let out a contented sigh as he takes my hand and leads me up to the house.

Sand scratches at me as we walk, and I’m going to need to clean up again. I ask, “How big is your bathtub?”

Jean Luc turns to grin at me. “Big enough for two.”

“Perfect.”

When we get in the house Grace is absent from the kitchen, and when we’re near the counter he grabs me by the hips to set me on it. He says, “Chowder first.” His gaze drops to my lap and he adds, “And then I might need dessert.”

One thing that polar bear are known for is their insatiable sex drive, and I grin at my mate. “You do have polar bear genes.”

“
Ma cherie.
” He chuckles. “
Tu n’as aucune idée.
You have no idea.” Soup splatters into a bowl, and he hands it to me.

My mate is still naked, and I growl as I scan his body quickly while I lick my lips. I dip my spoon into the chowder as I say, “Good. Because no self-respecting polar bear would be with a mate who can’t last all night.” I place a mouthful of hot, creamy broth in my mouth and draw out my utensil slowly as I stare at Jean Luc.

He swallows hard, and his bowl clatters on the counter when he sets it down. He grabs my soup from my hands to set it aside too as he shoves himself between my legs. Jean Luc’s fingers dig into my hips as he yanks me to the edge of the counter to thrust into me. I’m still slick with our juices, so he slides in easily, and I let out a small cry of appreciation as I grasp the sinewy muscles of his back to pull him in deeper.

His voice is in my head now as he says,
“Mine!”

“I’m yours.” I pull his mouth down to mine, and before I kiss him I say, “And you’re”—our lips meet, and I plunge my tongue into his mouth as I speak telepathically—
“mine.”

I
sabelle

T
he pale morning
light of dawn illuminates the sculpted figure of Jean Luc as he stands before a dresser and steps into his jeans. I let out a sleepy moan. “Where are you going?”

“To work.”

I’m in the most comfortable bed I’ve ever experienced, and the smooth duvet cover is soft on my skin as I cuddle into the cloud-like comforter. I realize that I know very little about my mate’s life, and I ask, “What do you do?”

“I build sailboats.”

“Aha, that explains why you’re so good with your hands.”

He yanks a T-shirt over his head and smiles at me. You’d think I’d been given the best compliment ever by the way it makes me smile back. He asks, “Would you like to come with me?”

Since I’m trying to imagine what it would be like without him for even an hour, I say, “Yes.”

The bed sinks when Jean Luc sits next to me. He leans down and kisses me before he says, “Go shower, and I’ll make the coffee. How do you like it?”

I reach up and squeeze his bicep. “Strong, like my mate.”

He chuckles as he stands. “I make breakfast too. Eggs?”

“Love them.” I whip the covers off, and the mutual scent of us wafts toward me. “Love food.” I stand up and press myself against Jean Luc and say, “Love you.”

He grabs my bare bottom and squeezes it. “Love you too.” He gives me a quick kiss, and my skin stings when he slaps my butt. “Now get moving.”

I’ve become a sappy girl, because the urge to sing in the shower is overwhelming. I’m sure I’ll have to resist skipping to the kitchen in a few minutes. If this is what being a true mate is all about, then I’m so glad I signed up.

When I return from the bathroom, clothing is set out on the made bed. The underwear is functional, and the jeans fit loosely. I guess Grace went shopping for me, and the gesture brings another surge of emotion.
Oh my god.
I’m happy. Like the “nothing is wrong, I’m not irritated, I’m not dreading what will happen today” kind of happy.

As I get dressed, I catch myself humming, and I let it happen. My step is light and bordering on a prance as I go find Jean Luc for breakfast. I glance out the windows that face the ocean to find the sun peeking up over the horizon. I recall seeing the same thing yesterday morning when I was waiting for death, wanting it. Twenty-four hours later, I’m so alive I can barely fathom yesterday happened.

Jean Luc hands me a steaming mug of coffee and says, “I see Grace did a good job of figuring out your size.”

“She did.” I haven’t seen Grace since we first met yesterday so I ask, “Where is she?”

Jean Luc pulls me against his body, and a tingle sweeps over my skin. His voice reaches right to my core when he lowers it and says, “Giving us space.”

I sigh, and my mug clatters on the counter as I try to set it down with my trembling hand. I ask, “Are you the boss?”

My mate is nibbling on my neck, and a tiny shudder runs through me as he murmurs, “Um-hmm.”

“So nobody cares if you’re late?” I reach for his waistband, and the metal button is warm when I unfasten it.

“Uh-huh.” His stomach quivers as I slide the zipper down.

My knees thud as I sink to the floor and say, “So about that breakfast.”

“It’s cooking.” Jean Luc threads his fingers through my wet hair, and his shaft is silky smooth under my tongue as I lick it up to the tip.

Now it’s my turn to say “Um-hmm,” before I devour him.

A
fter a morning filled
with learning about the boat-building business, Jean Luc takes me down to the dock for lunch. His executive assistant got us sandwiches, and we sit with our feet dangling in the water as we eat. But my appetite has faded, because I need to leave our euphoria for a moment and be serious. The bubbles of my soda tickle their way down my throat as I swallow a mouthful, and I say, “I need to tell you things about me.”

Jean Luc turns his gaze to me, and it’s as if his eyes are pulling me into the warmth of his heart, because I feel as if nothing I can say is going to horrify this man. “
Ma cherie
, we have a lifetime for you to tell me things. But if you must.”

Even his accent makes me want jump up and scream to the world about how much I love Jean Luc Ouellette. It shoves my need to share my shame away, and I say, “Good, because I can’t seem to think straight around you right now. I want to tell you the bad things, but one look from you, and they disappear.”

“Because they are gone, Isabelle.” He pushes a lock of my hair behind my ear, and the calluses of his crafting fingers rasp against my skin. “Our bond has saved you from craziness. You are experiencing the normal joy most of us feel every day.”

Everyone else feels this good most of the time? “Really?” He nods as I add, “But there is one thing we can’t ignore.”

“Tristan.”

“Yes. I need to contact my brother and let him know I’m alive.”

“Tristan, I’m—”
It occurs to me that now that I’m too far away to communicate telepathically with him right now.

The muscles of Jean Luc’s jaw are working as he scowls. He sighs and says, “Isabelle, you can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m so sorry,
ma cherie
. I cannot tell you.” He takes my hand to grasp it in both of his. “Not yet.”

“Jean Luc,” I plead. “He cares about me. I can’t let him mourn me any longer.”

“You have to. It’s the only way to keep him safe.”

“And you can’t tell me why?”

“No.” He studies my face with an intense stare for a moment before he says, “Trust me, Isabelle.”

Something powerful changed me when I had my brush with death, because now I have magic, a true mate bond, and I’m willing to trust a man I’ve known for little more than a day. More than willing. I know I must. I say, “Okay. I do.”

T
ori

T
he driveway
to the Veilleux mansion is spectacular, and I’m awestruck as I make my way toward it to meet Lily for tea. The long, straight road is lined with old oak trees that form a canopy, and sunlight streams in between the leaves. It’s like driving through nature’s laser show. The trees stop to expose a vast expanse of perfect lawn before me as if someone rolled out a green carpet for my approach. The incredibly large, Victorian-style house on the hill is painted dark gray with white trim, and there’s even a fountain with marble benches set out like ancient patio furniture designed to last for centuries. I feel like I’m back in Connecticut, where I grew up and these kinds of homes were the norm, instead of the middle of nowhere, Maine.

Crushed stone grinds under my tires when I pull up the horseshoe-shaped driveway, where I notice a black town car. A man in dark slacks and a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up is waxing the sedan. He comes to my door and opens it when I turn off my engine.

“Welcome, Miss Veilleux. I’m Thomas.”
Veilleux?
I suppose that is my name now. He bows to me, and I’m a little confused as to what I should do. He stands and says, “I’m so honored to meet the new Veilleux alpha.”

He extends his hand to help me out, and I’m grateful Carly told me to wear something nicer than jeans. If I’m going to be treated like royalty, I’m glad I look the part.

“Thank you,” I say as I smooth out my skirt. My heels are going to be a bit awkward in the loose stones, but Thomas takes my arm and leads me the few steps it takes to get to a paved walkway. He releases me but continues on by my side.

He says, “As you can tell, I’m the driver, and once you reside here I’ll be happy to take you anywhere you wish.”

Reside here?
This is news to me, and I wonder what else I’m going to learn today. Thomas opens the door to the house for me, and I’m greeted by Lily, three car seats complete with little boys, and a woman I assume is the nanny.

Lily says, “I’m so glad you got here in time. Meet your little brothers.”

I watch the three boys squirm in their car seats.
I have three little half brothers.
I knew that. But I hadn’t given it much thought.

“This is Jackson, Justin, and Jason.”

I squat down to touch little bare toes and say hello. They’re super-cute, with heads full of dark hair and the sparking green eyes of a Veilleux. I imagine I’ll like seeing them grow up. The nanny says, “We’ve got to go.”

Lily sighs. “I know.” She kisses each little boy on the head and says, “See you next week, sweeties.”

I remember that she shares custody with Sierra because it was believed one of the boys would be the next Veilleux alpha. I don’t know Lily well enough to ask what’s going to happen now, since she no longer has a claim to the babies as the current prima and leader. Once Thomas helps the nanny take the children, Lily brings me into a room that was probably the original parlor. It’s tastefully decorated in the same style as the house, and I sink into a couch that is so comfortable, I imagine curling up on it with a good book. Lily sits in an overstuffed chair off to the side.

This is my kind of house, and I have a pang of longing for it when I think about Keith’s more modern home. I say, “You must love it here.”

An older woman enters with a tea setup and a plate of heart-shaped cookies. The tray thumps on the coffee table, and Lily says, “Thank you, Carol.”

Lily says, “I do love it here.” She stares at me for a moment as if she’s not sure if she should say something. She leans forward to pour us tea and says, “It’s wonderful to live in a house with history. But I suppose I’ll eventually have to find another.”

“What makes you say that?” I take the cup she offers me, and honey oozes into the liquid as I pour it from a tiny pitcher.

“It’s rightfully yours,” says Lily.

“Oh.” This alpha stuff is going to take some getting used to. But I suppose as Victor’s alpha heir, I’ve inherited a lot more than a house. “No. You don’t need to move. I planned on living at Keith’s house.”

“As the clan alpha you’re going to have to move onto Veilleux land, Tori. Can you imagine the president living in another country?”

“Right.” I frown as I think about how much the Veilleux have hurt my mate, Keith. I can’t imagine he’s going to like this plan. “I don’t know how I’m going to get Keith to do that. He still holds so much anger over Victor killing his mate, Taylor.”

Now Lily frowns at me. “Victor didn’t kill Taylor. Does he really think that?”

“That’s what he told me.”

“My husband did a lot of awful things, but he didn’t kill Keith’s mate. Patricia ordered our medicine man to do it.”

“Patricia?” I have a cookie in my hand, but I don’t take a bite as I wait for her explanation.

“Yes. Unfortunately your grandmother is the truly evil one in this clan, although Victor certainly played his part. But I’ve been working on changing that.” She lifts her teacup and sits back to cross her legs. “It’s my hope that you’ll take what I’ve started and bring peace to this clan.”

“Of course.” I take a bite of the cookie and savor the sweet buttery flavor before I ask, “How long has the Veilleux-Le Roux feud existed?”

“I’m not sure. There isn’t one thing that points to the beginning. I think it was born from a building resentment over the years that the Le Roux were the decision makers for the whole kingdom.”

“I can see where that wouldn’t sit well with an alpha.” My teacup rattles on the saucer when I set it down. “We don’t like to be told what to do.”

“Exactly. But the new council is making headway toward change. It really is healthy for all three clans to make the decisions together.”

I nod as she speaks. “How are the Le Roux handling the shared power?”

“Quite well, actually. I think Brady is a forward thinker and embraces the need for the new way of ruling the kingdom.”

“Good. So tell me more about the council.”

Lily explains the inner workings of the group of people who run the Northeast Kingdom. She assures me that she plans to sit on the council as long as I want her to, and that when she steps down she’ll be here for me. Since this is the only life she knows now, I insist she stays at the house even after I move in.

Our new relationship is easy, and we’re laughing at little things by the end of our conversation. I take a sip of my tea that is now cold before I say, “Hey, you’re my step-mother. What should I call you?”

“Oh goodness, that makes me feel horribly old. Can we just pretend I’m your friend instead?”

“Done.”

I glance around the room and Lily asks, “Would you like a tour of your new home?”

“I would.” As we exit the parlor I place my hand on the door frame, and it’s smooth under my fingers from years of varnish and waxed polish. Our shoes tread softly on an oriental carpet that runs the length of the hallway, and I take in the ornate details of the place I’ll soon call home. I will be happy here.

When we walk by the basement, Lily opens the door for us to peer down. A cold breeze wafts up toward us, and a tiny chill runs through me. My stomach flips as I try to imagine Keith living here with me, and I wonder if he’ll find a way to be happy in Victor’s old house. It’s strange that Keith told me Victor killed Taylor when Lily insists he didn’t. Could Lily be refusing to see the truth? Or is there more to this than I know? Whatever it is, I intend to get to the bottom of it.