Woodcutter Werebear (Saw Bears Book 2) (3 page)

She slipped from the truck when Kellen pumped his hands as if they ached. He stared down at his sharp nails, which were still retracting.

“Are you okay?” she asked, dropping to her knees in front of him. She held the jeans clutched to her chest.

“Hurts,” was all he said in a hoarse voice.

Looking around to make sure no one was barreling down the road to see this, she slid her hand across Kellen’s back. His muscles were tensed, but as she massaged the knots, he relaxed little by little.

“You’re a bear shifter,” she said low. Tracing faint, curved scars across his back, she said, “You fight grizzlies. No wonder you don’t fear my people.”

Kellen huffed a laugh, then leaned back on his heels, apparently unconcerned with his lack of clothing.

His eyes were brown again, the same color as his hair, which was short on the sides and longer on top. Tousled in that sexy I-just-got-out-of-bed-and-don’t-care look. It was the first time she’d really taken time to study him. She’d been working so hard to hide her face and those damned telling bruises, proof of her weakness, that she hadn’t really seen him. Smile lines bracketed full lips with a scar on one side, and his eyebrows were dark and animated. His neck was thick with muscle that led to perfectly defined pecs and tiny pert nipples that had drawn up against the stiff breeze. Bulging muscles flexed across his stomach with each ragged breath he drew. His shoulders were broad and defined, and his chest rippled as he dragged a hand through his chestnut colored hair, as if his scalp still tingled from the Change. Strips of muscle hooked over his hip bones and delved toward his thick, long, half-mast erection. Embarrassed at staring, she jerked her gaze from between his thighs and looked at his face again.

His eyes dropped to her outstretched hand, and she gasped and yanked it back. When had she started reaching out for him?

The corners of his eyes tightened as he dragged his gaze back to hers. “I don’t mind if you look at me, Skyler.”

She shouldn’t. She was promised to Roger, but crouching here, in the middle of nowhere, it was so tempting to do something she wanted to do instead of something she was told to do.

With her gaze, she traced his ribs, pressing against his skin with every breath. His strong arms and his long, lean legs folded under him. With a steadying breath, she allowed herself to look at his thick, hard erection standing rigid between his thighs. She released her breath slowly, then handed him his jeans.

“Thank you,” she said, shrugging off the embarrassment that blanketed her.

Kellen didn’t look uncomfortable at all. In fact, he seemed to be studying her reaction. “You touched me. My back. You rubbed my back. Does that mean you aren’t afraid of me anymore?”

“Why does it bother you so much whether I’m afraid or not?”

“Because I’d never hurt you. I’d never let anyone hurt you. I don’t want you to be afraid. Not ever. Why did you just thank me?”

Her cheeks were on fire, and she dropped her chin so her hair covered her face. “For letting me look at you and not making me feel bad about it. Roger isn’t my type…” She squeezed her eyes tightly closed at her misstep. “I mean—”

“No, say what you want to say.” Kellen lifted her chin and smoothed her hair away from her face, then brushed the lightest touch over her bruised cheek. “I like it best if people just say what they mean. I get confused by games.”

“Okay.” She believed him. He spoke differently, more honestly, so she could see how it would be confusing for someone like him if she only offered half-truths. “I don’t like the way Roger treats me. His meanness has made me dislike everything about him. The way his hair gets greasy when he doesn’t wash it and the way he smells like cigarettes and onions. The way he looks at me, like I’m the dirt he stomps off his boots and onto the floors. You have been nice to me. You gave me a flower and a soda, and you look at me like I’m somebody special. And I…” She closed her eyes so she could find her bravery. “I like the way you look. If any of this had been my choice, I would’ve picked someone who acts and looks like you.”

“So, I’m your type?”

Opening her eyes, she looked at him as sadness washed through her. “Yes, but it doesn’t matter.”

Nodding slowly, he conceded, “Maybe not.”

Unfolding the jeans, he stood and slipped them on, then looked at her with a slight frown.

“What?” she asked.

He pressed his hand to her lower back and guided her around the truck, then helped her in. Reaching over her lap to fasten the buckle, he looked up and said, “If I was built for a mate, I would’ve picked someone like you, too.”

The dilapidated sign above the hood of the truck read Asheland Mobile Park. Kellen’s truck was one of those white, monster-looking trucks with fat tires and a lift kit that didn’t have the best suspension anymore. Skyler lurched back and forth as he seemed to hit every pothole in this ratty trailer park.

The yards were mowed, and there wasn’t a single plastic pink flamingo in sight, but she’d heard horror stories about people living in these little communes so far out in the woods. Probably making moonshine. Or even worse—maybe this was some kind of meth lab community.

“What do you do for a living?” she asked suspiciously.

“I’m a lumberjack. So are the rest of the Ashe crew. We’ve got two crews clearing the dead, beetle-infested wood from this area, us and the Gray Backs. The Boarlanders do the cutting for us before we start on a new job site.”

“Lumberjacks?” She hid a grin. “So, you must like pancakes then.”

“What?”

The relief at him not being a criminal—an illegal substance criminal, at least—had her giggling like a lunatic. “Never mind. It’s a Paul Bunyan joke.”

A slow smile took his lips as he pulled in front of a trailer that read 1010 on the door frame. “I like the way you laugh.”

“I laugh like a hyena,” she muttered.

“I think it’s cute.”

Skyler frowned and stared at him, waiting for the punchline, but he didn’t offer one. Instead, he hopped out of the truck. She did the same and studied the trailer he was headed for. The tiny home was painted a light cream color with dark green shutters and a rusty red door. It was small, a singlewide, and ancient.

“It looks drafty,” she observed, fidgeting.

“It is. And it has a resident mouse you’ll do best to ignore. We keep taking him out, but he just comes right back in. He’s a part of this place. Denison named him Nards, on account of his giant—”

“Testicles,” she finished. “How charming. So Denison lives here?”

“No, Ten-ten is yours. Brooke used to live here, but when she gets back from the city, she’ll be moving in over there.” Kellen pointed to a trailer across the dirt road from where they stood.

A pang of something unsavory slashed through her. She’d forgotten about Brooke, but now guilt bombarded her. She shouldn’t have looked at Kellen naked. He was taken, and Skyler wasn’t interested in stepping on another woman’s territory. She got what he was saying. When Brooke returned from wherever it was she’d been visiting, she’d be moving in with Kellen. An image flashed across her imagination of Brooke and Kellen making love tonight. The walls of 1010 looked paper thin, and no doubt she’d be able to hear them. A nauseous, unexplainable feeling punched her gut as she followed Kellen inside. Why shouldn’t he want to have sex with his mate? She’d been away from him, and he had every right to enjoy himself with his woman. It shouldn’t make any difference to Skyler.

But it did.

She resented Brooke for catching such a good man. Sure, he was a too-honest-for-his-own-good kidnapper, but he probably treated Brooke like a queen. How had Skyler been so unlucky to garner the attention of master-manipulator Roger, who’d probably never said a kind word to a woman in all of his life? And now she’d been stolen away by this sexy-as-hell woodcutter werebear who was utterly unavailable. The unfairness of it all stacked up like brick walls around her heavy heart.

Kellen should’ve just left her back at Roger’s house. She’d accepted her life, and now, it wasn’t good enough anymore. Tomorrow, she’d go back to Roger, and it would hurt ten times worse to absorb the awful things he said to her and the insulting names he called her. She’d resent him even more for what he’d done to ruin her life. Her crappy fate would’ve been easier to bear if she’d been allowed to continue to guard her heart and not wish for more.

The turmoil swimming inside of her now was all Kellen’s fault.

“You want the tour?” he asked.

“No. I think I can find my way around a singlewide trailer home without your help.” Her voice snapped like a rubber band, and she hated how it sounded. She was polite and non-confrontational by nature, but this was all too much. Roger was probably losing his shit by now wondering where she was, and by the time she went back tomorrow, he’d be furious. A black eye was going to be the least of her worries.

Kellen frowned at her, but nodded slowly, then strode toward the door. “Oh,” he said, turning. “We’re having a little celebration tonight for Brooke’s return. I’d be honored if you came. With me. As my…” He ran his hands roughly through his dark hair and sighed, then tried again. “I’d like it if you let me sit by you.” His nostrils flared as he inhaled slowly. “I mean, I want to feed you and take care of you.”

Okay, he’d been doing a good job of asking her to the party until the last part. Who said stuff like that? He wanted to feed her? Was it a fetish perhaps? But he was staring at her so openly awaiting her answer, and as strange as his combination of words were, they pulled at something deep within her. Something she’d long thought was dead. He wanted to take care of her. Even though he was paired with Brooke, he was still friend enough to want to show her how a man should treat a woman. “Okay.”

A slow smile crept across his face, and he approached her slow. “Yeah?”

“It’s not like I have that much of a choice, Kellen Cade Brown. You kidnapped me, remember?”

The smile faded from his face, and he crooked a finger under her chin until she lifted her gaze to his. “You can escape this place anytime you want. Your will is free here, Beautiful. Go with me because you want to. Not because I’m making you.”

She nodded once, and his eyes dipped to her lips. The humor she’d seen in his expression a second ago didn’t exist anymore. The air grew heavy around them, like it had in the truck, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was warm like a blanket and settled her nerves. He touched her cheek, then cupped the back of her neck gently with his oversize hand. His thumb stroked circles into her hair, and with his other hand, he tucked a dark tress behind her ear, away from her face.

She was exposed here in front of this almost stranger, but for the first time in a long time, she felt like someone actually saw her.
Her.
Not what she could do for him, or how important her bloodline and children would be. Kellen was looking at her as if he knew her down to her bones.

Slowly, he lowered his lips to hers. She should run. This was wrong. They were promised and bound to others, but he held her in his gaze, and she was transfixed and helpless to flee. Angling his head, he pressed his lips against hers. She was surprised at how soft they were. He was scarred—a tall, wide, hard man who filled the air around him with dominance. His lips should’ve been demanding, but they weren’t. They plucked at hers with tiny, sexy smacking sounds until she leaned into him and stood on her tiptoes for more. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she opened her mouth to allow him to taste her. His tongue brushed hers in the softest touch, and a delicious rumble filled his throat. She’d done that, pulled that sexy noise from him. She nibbled on his bottom lip, and he gasped. His expression went completely blank, and he moved away as if to escape her, but then he leaned in again and held her tightly against his chest. Stroking her hair, he said, “I shouldn’t have done that. You aren’t ready, and you need to be alone to find yourself before a man touches you like that again. I’m sorry.”

Done what? Kissed her? Hell yeah, he shouldn’t have done that. He had a mate, and he was currently soaking the panties of another woman—namely her. But he was rocking slowly back and forth, crushing her to his sternum, and the guilt just kept piling up and up. He wasn’t worried about Brooke. He was worried he’d kissed Skyler while she was still traumatized by Roger’s abuse. This was all so confusing.

A lump formed in her throat, suffocating her as he squeezed even harder. Panic froze her as the repercussions of what she’d just done with him set in.

He hadn’t just kissed her.

He’d changed her.

“I think you should go,” she whispered.

Because she was definitely about to fall apart, and she didn’t want him to see her shatter into a million pieces of broken, messy Skyler. She was porcelain right now. Raw, fragile, and spider-webbed with cracks so thin they were almost invisible. But all it took was one more blow, and she’d be nothing but sharp edges and dust.

“You want me to leave?” he asked, sounding hurt.

“I need you to.”

His throat moved against her cheek as he swallowed hard. “I’m sorry,” he said again, then turned without another word and left her alone.

It was hard to keep her sobbing quiet. She knew what he was now, and it wasn’t a lesser shifter. He wasn’t a field mouse or an otter. He was an apex predator, born to sense everything in his territory. He’d hear her hitched breathing and quiet weeping, but she didn’t want to share this heartache with him or anyone else.

She wasn’t his problem. Her insecurities were her own.

She padded through the tiny living area and kitchen to the bedroom where a neatly made queen-size bed took up the middle of the room. Bracketed by two windows covered with pretty blue blackout curtains, the room was darker than the rest of the house. This was it. Her sanctuary. This was where her heart would break. And for the first time in months, it felt okay somehow. She hadn’t dared to shed a single tear in the cabin she’d lived in with Roger. He’d hate her even more for feeling anything at all. But here, for reasons she couldn’t understand, she felt safe to let her demons out.

Quietly though.

She curled up under the soft comforter, pulled a pillow close, and held it against her face as she screamed her fury at the world. At the people she’d been born to and Roger’s unfortunate attention. For what he’d done to her. The bruises on her face and the scars that Kellen wouldn’t see, because she’d never let him witness what Roger had really done to her.

When her throat had gone hoarse and felt lined with glass, her cries of anger turned to weeping for what Kellen had shown her. He’d given a broken girl a flower and a soda, just because he was a nice person, but he would never realize what he’d really done.

He’d made her want.

He’d made her need more from a pairing than a demanding mate who would hurt her in the bedroom someday. Who would strip her down to nothing but bone and marrow until she didn’t feel anything. Kellen had made her life unacceptable with a kind gesture. He’d kidnapped her, sure. But he’d done it because he honestly thought he was saving her. How could she resent him for that? Her own father hadn’t come to her rescue when she phoned him and explained the horrible things Roger called her. Roger had grabbed her arm so hard it had bruised fingerprints around the inside of her elbow for days. Dad hadn’t come. He’d told her to
buck up. A mating wasn’t supposed to be easy.

But Kellen made her think that a mating shouldn’t be this damned hard.

That’s when her crying turned pitiful.

Kellen. She was drawn to him, had been since she watched him pick out flowers in the grocery store, but he’d never be hers. Not even close. He hadn’t taken her because he liked her, he’d kidnapped her because he pitied her, which was the worst part of all. She’d done a fantastic job of hiding her predicament from everyone, bar her father. She’d managed to live in her own private hell, wishing something would happen to free her from the mess she’d found herself in, and when her sexy, bear-shifter knight in shining flannel swooped in there, it had been scary, liberating, and empowering.

But he belonged to another.

God, she was pathetic. Pining for some strange-talking man she didn’t understand who was in love with another. He was a stranger. This had to be her heart’s desperate attempt at latching on to the first man to show her kindness.

Her tears ran dry, and she hiccupped and gasped until she couldn’t cry anymore. Her head ached, her eyes were swollen, and she probably looked like a psychotic raccoon thanks to her unfortunate decision to wear mascara this morning. But deep inside, she felt a little better. What was it about crying her eyes out that released all of that ache she’d been harboring? She should’ve felt like a weakling, but instead, she felt more clear-minded than she had in months.

Roger wasn’t it for her.

Her life had meaning.

All it had taken was a few hours with a nice stranger to show her she had more value than a fertile womb and the bloodline that ran her veins. She inhaled deeply and hugged her pillow to her chest.

But…the banishment.

Her epiphany didn’t matter. She was utterly and unfailingly stuck in this lonely life.

Nards, the mouse, crept across the dark wood-laminate flooring, dragging his giant testicles behind him, and she couldn’t help a tiny smile. She wasn’t alone after all. Her gaze arced after him as he sped up and disappeared under the bathroom door. Her gaze met a pair of silvery blue eyes, simmering with emotion.

She gasped and sat up.

Kellen was crouched on the floor, weight shifted on one leg like he’d wanted to escape but couldn’t.

“Kellen! How long have you been there?”

He hunched his shoulders at the shrill pitch of her voice, but dammit, that sob-fest had been meant for a pathetic party of one.

“You were crying,” he said.