Brynn Paulin Read online

  She glanced over at Mika to find the same expression on his face.

  Geez, guys, it was just sex, she thought.

  Mika frowned and she supposed he could read her thoughts on her countenance. His eyes darkening, he shifted to the side. “I’ll get you some tea.”

  “No!” she exclaimed. She needed to keep her senses about her. “No medicine.”

  “Just regular tea with a bit of honey,” he assured her, then added as she struggled to sit up, “and perhaps a couple aspirin.”

  “Okay,” she conceded. Bar moved to sit beside her and they both reclined against the headboard. He pulled her into his arms and she rested her head on his shoulder, enjoying the steady thump of his heart beneath her cheek. She curled into his warmth and let his strong presence surround her. He seemed to be the calm force in the sexy duo, but she still sensed an undercurrent of malcontent. Something was off here, but she didn’t know what. It had been spectacular sex. What was the problem?

  “Just relax,” he said, his calm, deep voice lulling her. “Everything will be perfect in time.”

  That seemed a peculiar statement, but she left it alone as she closed her eyes and waited for Mika to return.

  Bar stroked Summer’s hair, knowing he and Mika had made a huge misstep. As much as their mate had wanted them, claiming her had been too soon and there would be consequences—but hopefully nothing that couldn’t be quickly worked through.

  Her thoughts were quite vociferous and her beliefs clear. To her, this had been an enjoyable encounter, but just that. A one-time fling in the middle of desolate wilderness.

  It was unlikely she’d take the mating well. But she was fully and truly his and Mika’s. They would not be able to read her thoughts now if the mating had not been ordained and if she hadn’t been destined for them. Unfortunately, what was understood to his people was not easily accepted by outsiders. He sensed a fight coming, but even so, they had to tell Summer of the union as soon as possible.

  “I’ll be back in a moment,” he told her, slipping away from her, then arranging her on his pillows. He drew the comforter over her before he headed into the bathroom to dispose of his condom and clean up.

  Minutes later, he joined Mika in the kitchen. His cluster mate stood at the stove, the teapot in his hand and the burner cold. Mika turned desolate eyes to him.

  “We fucked up,” he said quietly.

  “Yeah.” Bar scrubbed a hand over his face. “Forget the tea. She’s asleep.” He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his bare chest. He and Mika were accustomed to being naked around each other, so neither man thought to grab clothes before they talked.

  “We need to figure out what to do,” Mika continued. “In a few days she’ll want to leave, unless the mate bond is strong enough. Sure, we can live separate, but I don’t think I can bear it if…”

  He didn’t finish, but Bar knew. Even if thousands of miles separated them, they’d sometimes hear Summer’s thoughts—especially if she didn’t learn to shield them. They’d feel what she felt, particularly at high emotional times such as if she attempted sex with another man.

  A knot formed in Bar’s gut, just thinking of the specter of another lover who wasn’t her mate.

  “Don’t,” Mika sighed, his usual jocular demeanor long gone.

  “You brought it up.”

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I want to consider it in the same detail you are in your head.” He pushed a hand through his already askew hair and padded to the slider to stare up at the mountain that rose behind their home. A run was out of the question, though they both needed it again. Generally, sex would wear them out, but the agitation caused by Summer’s thoughts had stoked them into action.

  “Maybe we should go talk to Grandmother,” Bar suggested. The medicine woman lived close to their home. They’d be close enough to return to Summer as soon as they sensed her rousing.

  With a nod, Mika went for the clothes he’d dropped in the living room earlier. Bar did the same.

  The bite of coming winter was in the air when they stepped outside minutes later and headed for the medicine woman’s home. To Bar and Mika’s surprise, Aron and Kane, two of the other shifters who’d rescued a woman, were leaving Grandmother’s. They paused as Bar and Mika approached.

  Aron gave a self-deprecating yet amused grin. “You, as well?” he asked. “At least we’re not alone in our haste.”

  “You’ve claimed your woman?” Bar asked, some relief filling him. He and Mika weren’t the only ones who’d rushed forward.

  “Yes,” Kane grumbled. “But she thinks it was just because she’s convenient. She’s rather hard on herself and won’t believe we truly want her.”

  “Xathan, Zeb and Vastan are faring no better,” Aron offered. “Their mate claims she will never belong to any man, let alone a group of men. Rather fiery, I hear. She threw a mug at Xathan’s head—and got him too.”

  Bar couldn’t help his smile at the image. Xathan was the future leader of their clan. Bar couldn’t imagine he’d take well to having pottery whipped at him. Even more, Bar was somewhat relieved to find he and Mika weren’t alone in their dilemma.

  “Be well and good luck,” he told his two friends as they moved away to head to their home.

  “To you too. I think we all need it,” Aron replied.

  Kane nodded. “I hope the gods have a plan other than laughing at us.”

  Bar couldn’t help chuckling and Mika jabbed him with an elbow, jerking his head toward the house. When had Mr. Congeniality gotten so grumpy? Bar sighed. He didn’t like Mika being this way. Hopefully, they could get things back to normal quickly—normal with their mate.

  The entry to Grandmother’s house was well lit as they went inside without knocking. There was a bell to summon the medicine woman if she wasn’t in the communal area, but rapping on the door for entry wasn’t required.

  “I’ll tell you the same as I told the others,” she called from the back, not bothering to ask who it was or look into the receiving area. “Figure it out yourself. Bunch of hotheaded boys. The lot of you are more recklessly headstrong than any shifters before you.”

  “Grandmother,” Bar pleaded.

  She stepped into the room, wiping the outside of a jar containing questionable red goo on her apron. “No medicine or magic. You have to figure it out yourself. The gods have answered your prayers—what do you want? A gift-wrapped package with a bow? Figure it out like the adults you are.”

  “But—”

  “Now git!” she ordered, interrupting Mika. She huffed. “I can’t believe you seven. Whine, whine, whine like toddlers!”

  Bar pursed his lips and scowled, but refrained from saying a word. Grandmother was in a mood, to be sure. He certainly didn’t want to be turned in to a ptarmigan, and he’d heard she was fully capable of it if she were vexed. And since his people tended to eat ptarmigan when in lynx form, that could mean his untimely death—which could, on second thought, solve his problem.

  Grandmother stared at him with hands on her hips and a brow raised. “Really?” she asked, reminding him that she could read the thoughts of all their people. “You believe that to be a viable solution? You are a dunderhead, aren’t you?”

  “No, Grandmother,” he muttered.

  “Hmph,” was her only reply, then without a goodbye or anything, she went back to her inner sanctum and slammed the door behind her.

  Mika shoved him. “Nice work, genius.”

  “Excuse me?” Bar glowered at him, bristling as he loomed and reminded Mika who the dominant in their group was.

  Rather than back down, Mika rolled his eyes and stomped from the house. He didn’t pause as he marched down the street toward his parents’ home. And Bar knew from his cluster mate’s demeanor he wouldn’t be welcome. He stood scowling in the street, his arms crossed. His parents had passed away years ago, so he couldn’t go there, and his brother was out, flying the air taxi. Bar huffed. He didn’t want to go home either. Not yet.
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  He eyed the bar down the street. He’d taken one step that way when an irate voice stopped him.

  “Bar Ra! I told you to go home!”

  He looked up to find Grandmother in her doorway, her face dire as if she really might change him into an arctic bird.

  He blew a breath through his nose and turned on his heel to march home—only he knew he was stomping, just like the child he accused him of being.

  * * * * *

  “Summer, wake up.”

  She grumbled and turned her face into the pillows. She didn’t want to wake up—even the sheets smelled like Bar and she wanted more of him.

  “Wake up anyway. We need to talk.”

  Did she speak aloud again? Turning over, she looked up at Bar. He sat on the edge of the bed, fully dressed. Mika was nowhere in sight.

  “No, you didn’t speak out loud,” Bar said. “That’s what we need to talk about.”

  “You can read my mind?” she asked, horrified. No, no he couldn’t. He was just reading her body language.

  Yes, I can, he said into her thoughts. And you can read mine. You are our mate—mine and Mika’s. Only our mate can read our thoughts.

  “Impossible!” she exclaimed, scrambling from the bed and yanking a blanket with her. An involuntary groan escaped her as pain clamped over her body again. It wasn’t as bad as before, but she still ached.

  Refusing to show weakness, she moved as far away as she could. She edged toward the doorway. Calmly, Bar rose and blocked her path. He leaned on the doorjamb and watched her. “We need to talk.”

  “No freaking way. You’re crazy.”

  “And you should have some of Grandmother’s tea to ease your pain.”

  “I’m not in pain,” she lied. “And even if I was, you’re not giving me that stuff again. You drugged me so I’d want you. And now I’m hallucinating or something.”

  “Or something,” he echoed with a small smile.

  “Don’t you laugh at me!” she bellowed. She reached for the lamp and he envisioned her whipping it at him, like Xathan’s mate had done to him.

  “Throw that lamp and you’ll regret it,” he said darkly. “You’ll find yourself tied to the bed while I make you listen.”

  “I’ll scream,” she rebutted.

  “I’ll gag you.”

  Summer paused, and he sniffed, taking in her arousal at the notion of his control over her.

  You smell good, nuliaba abnaba, he told her. I can tell you want me again.

  “Fuck,” she muttered. “Stay out of my head, you pervert.”

  “I don’t need to be in your head to pick up that scent.”

  “You can’t smell…”—she trailed off before finally finishing her thought—“that.”

  “Yes, I can. There are many things you don’t know about me and Mika.” Things he couldn’t tell her right now. The mating and telepathy were already too much. But he wanted her to know all of it. Deep down, he knew there might not be recovery if he told her too soon about them being shifters.

  “Where are my clothes?” she asked suddenly as they heard a plane overhead. His brother was returning from his daily runs.

  “In the dryer. Your other things haven’t yet been brought from the wreck. We’ve sent people to salvage what they can.” His eyes narrowed at her again. “Do not think you will get a ride out of here. That was the last flight of the day.”

  “I just want to get dressed,” she said, though he clearly heard the tirade of swear words in her head. He fought a smile, illogically enjoying the open door into his mate’s mind. All too soon, she’d instinctively learn to shield her thoughts—that was, if she stayed here and actively used the telepathy.

  He stepped aside. “Be my guest.”

  “Like I have a choice,” she muttered as she edged past him, pressing as close to the opposite side of the doorjamb as she could.

  Feeling difficult, he yanked the blanket from her as she passed. Summer gasped, then ducked into the bathroom/laundry. She slammed the door behind her. He shook his head as the lock turned.

  She’d actually taken the telepathy news better than he’d expected. Perhaps pissing her off was the key. She might need to be good and irate for the next bit of news he’d have to share.

  Since it was almost dinner, he moved into the kitchen to fix them something to eat. Summer hadn’t had anything to eat in over thirty hours, maybe more depending on when she’d eaten before the flight. She’d need some nourishment. Off-hand, he wondered if she even knew that much time had passed since the wreck. She’d been out for so long, he and Mika had had Grandmother over to check on her twice.

  He pulled caribou meat from the refrigerator and placed it on the counter to make steaks. Opening the freezer, he removed frozen vegetables to go with it. They’d gotten rolls from the bakery earlier today.

  Living here was a whole different life, as Summer would soon learn. They caught their own meat and had vegetables and some fruit shipped in twice a year. They rarely had fresh unless they flew into the city. It was too expensive to have produce flown in regularly and the town was too far north for hearty crops, so they dealt with mostly frozen and canned foods. Bar and Mika stocked their chest freezer twice a year and only moved things to the fridge as needed.

  Except meat. They were excellent hunters and would provide well for Summer.

  The shower came on and he heard her moving around in the bathroom some more. She was fuming, but he tried to stay out of her head. Though he was curious, he figured he didn’t really want to know her thoughts about him.

  He turned on the broiler as Mika returned to the house. His cluster mate didn’t speak, but he seemed calmer as they silently worked together to make the meal.

  “My parents said we need to tell her.”

  “I explained about the telepathy and the mating,” Bar answered, shoving the meat beneath the flames.

  “But not the shifting?”

  “No.”

  “We need to tell her the rest. How she’d take the other news?”

  Bar blew a harsh breath through his nose. “Not very good.”

  Mika sighed and stirred the vegetables he was cooking. “That doesn’t bode well.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” Without expanding, Bar picked up the rolls and butter, then took them to the table. There wasn’t much more for them to say. Neither of them really knew what to do.

  He grabbed dishes and set the table for three, feeling some relief and satisfaction that there would finally be three at their table. His hearing focused on the bathroom as he realized the water had stopped. After a moment, he heard the dryer open and shut. Summer was muttering to herself, perhaps still irate, while she dressed.

  Feeding her was a good idea. In his experience, people who were hungry tended to be cranky and unreasonable. She might listen and understand once she wasn’t starving. Besides, he didn’t know what else to do. He was accustomed to being in charge, with a clear grasp of every situation, but Summer flummoxed him.

  “It’s okay.” Mika laughed quietly, thumping him on the shoulder. “You’ll get your footing again soon.”

  “I was thinking loudly?”

  “She might have even heard you.”

  Bar doubted that. He had a shield firmly in place when it came to her. He didn’t want her learning about the lynx before he was ready.

  Going back to the oven, he flipped the meat before it burned. As he straightened, Summer left the bathroom, dressed in the clothes she’d flown in and with a towel wrapped around her head. She paused, staring at the two of them like a caribou who’d picked up a hunter’s scent. And he sensed that like a caribou, she was about to run.

  “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes,” he said quickly. “You need to eat. It’s been over a day since the crash and you haven’t had anything but tea.”

  Indecision crossed her features and he knew she wanted to run for the bedroom and lock the door against them. Her stomach growled and she sighed.

  “I am hungry,” she conce
ded. “Eating with you doesn’t mean something special like I’m marrying you or something? I know that was once a tradition with some Native American tribes.”

  “No, just eating,” Bar answered. As far as his people were concerned, he, Mika and Summer were already fully joined. But by the gods, now wasn’t the time to explain that.

  “Okay,” she said reluctantly. She crossed to the dining area where Mika held out her chair.

  “Good choice, nuliaba abnaba,” he said, dropping a quick kiss on her shoulder as she sat. He pushed in her seat before she protested.

  “What does that mean?” she demanded.

  “What does what mean?” Mika hedged as he pulled down a bottle of wine. He brought it and glasses to the table while Bar removed the steaks from the broiler.

  “Nuliaba abnaba,” Summer practically growled, getting the pronunciation close to perfect.

  “Mate,” Bar said when he sensed Mika about to hedge again. More specifically, it meant “my wife”, but he figured he shouldn’t go there.

  “Stop calling me that,” she demanded. “I’m not your mate.”

  “But you are,” he replied calmly, putting meat on her plate. Mika gave her vegetables, then Bar offered her bread. Her hand shook as she ignored the food and reached for the wine Mika had placed before her while Bar had talked to her.

  “I’m not,” she insisted, then took a gulp of the amber liquid. “This is all a big mistake. I don’t care if you can read my thoughts and think I’m your woman. I’m not! Look…I’m not.” She took another big swallow.

  “Nuliaba abnaba—” Bar stopped when she glared at him. “Summer, you should eat. The wine will go straight to your head if you don’t.”

  “Oh, and we wouldn’t want that,” she muttered, but took a bite of her roll. She picked up her steak knife and Bar tensed. Across from him, Mika also cut his steak, but Bar sensed he too was uneasy with Summer having a sharp instrument in her hand.

  “Relax,” she said. “I’m not going to freak out and stab you.” She looked at Bar. No, I’ll be stone-cold sane when I do that.

  She blinked at him and he sensed she was rather pleased with herself that she’d been able to communicate that statement so easily. He hadn’t a doubt she’d master shielding rather quickly.