Choose The Bears (Ursa Shifters Book 6), page 8
That was the name that made her stiffen, making me and the bear come to alertness.
“Phil…” She shot me one long, grudging look. “He was with Mike. When shit was going down, he tried to make me serve him. He…” She straightened up, staring the lot of us down. “Bought a packet of kitchen knives and some Vaseline.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Mary’s still with you, right?”
“Right,” Kyle replied.
Her jaw tightened, but she was determined to go back to work, that was clear.
“So why the hell would he need knives…?”
We could answer that question, but she wasn’t ready to hear it. The dream, that she could get free, move on, live her life, was still there, tantalising her with the possibilities.
“Tonight,” I said, clutching at the straws I had. “We’ll be by your place to beef up security, swap over that door.”
“Right.” It was the gratitude in her eyes that had me gripping her hand tighter. “Thanks, I’ll be home around…”
“Vaseline.” Kyle growled out that word as we exited the supermarket. “Kitchen knives.” He stopped in the car park and stared at us. “Just posturing, scaring Imogen?”
“Or escalating.” Asher’s arms crossed his chest. “We’re not going to wait around to find out. One of us will be here to escort Imogen to her car at the end of her shift while the other two are carrying the door and other shit upstairs to her place.”
With a plan in place, we left, but I shot a long look backwards before getting back into the car. The unknown element, that was always the hardest part of this job, but we were on the case. We’d make clear that Mike and Phil needed to keep the fuck away from our mate at our soonest possible convenience. That kept the bear quiet as we pulled away, driving off to the security installation supplier.
Chapter 12
Imogen
I was always tired at the end of a shift, but there was no exhaustion like the end of a Saturday one. It felt like half of the city converged on the supermarket the first day of the weekend, eager to get their weekly shopping done. My feet ached, so did my back and my legs, but right as I was getting ready to go, I remembered that there was no food in the house and I’d promised to make dinner. With a sigh, I slung my bag over my shoulder and walked out to grab a shopping trolley.
“Doing a bit of shopping?”
I jumped ten feet at the deep voice, my fevered brain sure it was Mike or Phil, but of course neither of them spoke with such velvety tones. Instead, I found Asher standing there. He pulled a shopping trolley out of the bay and then wheeled it over to me.
“You escort women while they buy tampons, huh?” I asked, smiling despite myself. “That’s some service you provide.”
“When someone’s intent on harassing them and the woman is too stubborn to admit it, then yeah, I do,” he replied.
There was something completely unrepentant about him. He was being ridiculous and he knew it, not caring for a second. That had me sighing before grabbing the trolley and wheeling it forward.
I needed everything I quickly realised as I approached the first aisle, and that was a problem. I didn’t get paid for a couple of days, my savings were cleared out by the deposit for my new apartment, and I’d neglected to take what I could from my old place, thinking I had the weekend to go back for whatever I needed. I stared down the laundry aisle and wondered how long I could go before I really had to wash my uniform.
“Get what you need.” A black credit card with no markings on it whatsoever was passed over, but I just stared at it. He wiggled it in front of me, like a fisherman might bait. “Whatever you need—”
“Why?”
What the fuckity fuck was I doing? If some dickhead with very pretty blue eyes wanted to buy me groceries, I was not on the kind of pay grade that would allow me to go, ‘O no, kind sir, I couldn’t possibly.’ Grab the card, a hard, needy part of me said inside my head. Take it and get the damn groceries. But I couldn’t help but stare at the hand that was trying to feed me, wondering if I needed to bite it.
“Why not?”
The guy had arrogant fuckface written all over him, as if somehow he knew that under that scar, he was a freaking gorgeous guy. Shit, even with the scar, I’m fairly sure some hoity-toity fashion house would snap him up to walk their runway, figuring that dangerous smoulder would sell a whole lot of suits. Instead, he just watched me watch him, right before I pushed the card away.
“Keep it,” I said. He was about to argue. Of course he was. “You can pay for my groceries if pitying the poor scraggly thing you saved from Phil last night makes you feel good, but…” I met his eyes, not letting the cool stare put me off. “Just realise that’s all it buys you. I’m not giving hand jobs in the back of a car just for a bottle of laundry detergent.”
“Not even the high-end kind?” He walked over and grabbed one of massive boxes that would last me for the rest of my life and plonked it into the trolley with a defiant air. I sucked in a breath, but he continued, “I’m not in the habit of paying for favours, sexual or otherwise, Imogen. I help people…” When his hand went to his scar, my eyes followed it and that had his deeply tanned skin flushing pink momentarily. “Because it helps me feel better about myself. Now, pre-wash soaker? Enzyme wash?”
“Sure,” I said with a shrug. “If you’re buying…”
And he was. I was fascinated to see a man that one, seemed to know his way around household items, helping identify things I would’ve overlooked in my overtired state, and two, seemed completely comfortable filling my trolley with everything I needed. No, it was more than that. I caught the gleam in his eyes as he considered the contents of the trolley. It was as if he got off on seeing me run up an insane bill on his dime. Daniel had talked about getting into online financial domination to bankroll my move, and I was beginning to wonder if this was Asher’s kink. If it was, would he have followed me out to my car, eyes everywhere until we got to my boot, then he plucked the keys from my fingers and went to work stacking all of my items neatly in the back?
“I guess you’re gonna want some lamb stew as well?” I asked as I stood by the driver’s side.
“If you’re cooking it, yes,” he replied.
A man walking between my car and the one next to us should’ve been a little intimidating, but for some reason, that’s not how I felt with Asher. He was massive, filling that thin gap, and yet somehow, the way I’d felt the day we met came rushing back. Safe, that’s what pulsed within me, a feeling I would’ve wrinkled my nose up at as a kid, but now? Safe was lovely, safe was everything I wanted.
Safe was fucking hot.
At that, I forced myself to smile and opened my car door, wincing at the creak.
“OK, meet me at my place and I’ll see what I can whip up.”
Pulling away from him felt wrong but I did it anyway, gritting my teeth as I put my hands on the steering wheel. I didn’t like feeling like that. In my mind, it’d all been simple. I’d find a place, move out, spend a couple of months enjoying my now stress-free life before putting myself out there. Instead, I put moves on the first guy to give me a hug. My emotions, my instincts felt all off kilter, forcing me to react in ways I didn’t understand. Instead of ruminating further on that, I put the key in the ignition and then took off down the road towards home.
Only to find the rest of the gang was waiting for me.
We passed a few of my new neighbours. A couple of guys eyed me, then my groceries with interest, that fading as Asher carried the lion’s share upstairs, but by my front door was Lucas and Kyle. A brand new door, painted the same colour as my existing one, was propped against the wall, along with all of these boxes.
“What the—?”
“Security,” Lucas informed me smoothly. “These will help keep you safe. While at home, you’ll have nothing to worry about.”
If only that was the case. I unlocked the door and let everyone in.
When I put stuff away, filled my shelves and the fridge, I felt some of the satisfaction I’d intended to feel. It was like every item was a claim made by me over this space. It was mine, mine, mine alone, something I felt until I heard the sound of a drill undoing the screws of the existing door. For a moment, the entire world was given free access to my apartment, until they went to work. Hinges were replaced as were the door handle and the locks before it was set back in place. As I started pulling out ingredients for the stew, I watched the door get hung, the hinges tested, then the lock and the deadbolt.
“That’s better,” Kyle said, hands on his hips, seeming satisfied with their handy work. “So, Imogen, need a hand with anything?”
I was about to ask about the boxes when Asher and Lucas went to work. They were discussing things I had no idea about, like the difference between different models of motion sensors, when he appeared on the other side of the kitchen counter.
“Can you cut onions without crying like a baby?”
“Nope.”
His grin was infectious.
“Guess you better cut them anyway.” I nodded to the pantry. “You can test the quality of the tissues that Asher bought if you need to have a little cry.”
“Diced or sliced, and how many onions?”
Kyle seemed utterly undeterred by the idea of having weepy eyes and stinky hands, removing the brown skin before grabbing the second chopping board I unwrapped. There was a comfortable, easy air about the entire living area, replacing the alien feeling of last night, right up until I grabbed the kitchen knives from the grocery bags.
It was the same packet Phil had bought. I didn’t want to think about that, see him, hear him inside my head when I saw it, my fingers dimpling the hard plastic container they were sealed within. I didn’t want to think about anything to do with Mike at all, but suddenly I was just staring. Why would Phil need knives? Why would he need knives and Vaseline? The thought seemed to cycle over and over inside my head because I didn’t have an answer and suddenly I needed to.
Kyle reached out slowly, the sight of those very long, very strong fingers with prominent knuckles and a small white scar across one of them finally breaking my spell. He didn’t ask questions, though, simply producing a pocket knife and flicking it open before cutting through the packaging. A knife was held out hilt first and I took it with a grateful nod. I could have all the brain farts I liked later, after the carrots were cut and the celery diced.
“Damn, that smells amazing.”
I looked up as Asher and Lucas returned. The stew was in my grandmother’s old cast iron cook pot, bubbling away gently on the stove. Lucas was right, because the smell of thyme and garlic filled the kitchen.
“Just need to get the potatoes boiling and everything will be done,” I said with a smile.
“We can do that.” Kyle and Lucas looked at each other. “Asher can show you the changes we’ve made.”
Asher didn’t seem so sure about that. It was strange seeing such a big man look so uncomfortable, but he nodded.
“We’ll start in the spare bedroom.”
“While we’ll get started on the rest of this wine,” Kyle announced, rinsing off the new wine glasses and then pouring out three measures.
I’d wanted to buy something cheap to add to the stew, but Asher had been adamant this was the bottle to buy. Golden liquid beckoned me closer, but instead I followed Asher into the spare room.
“So.” I looked at the room, seeing small wires and devices subtly tucked away. “What did you end up installing?”
Chapter 13
Asher
Not enough, that’s what I felt. Nowhere near enough. Putting in a security system in a place like this was like trying to polish a turd, but here we were. Standing in a too-small room, too close to my mate, the bear shoving harder and harder to be free.
I reminded him that he wouldn’t fit into this space if I let him come forth, that he’d hurt Imogen, or worse. Terrify her with his furry visage, because she had no way to anticipate that more than one soul lived within my body. So instead, I pointed to the motion sensors attached to the windows.
“The entire security system will be synced to your phone. With a click,” I opened my own device and showed her an example of the video feed she’d get, “you’ll be able to see exactly what’s going on at your place. Is anyone trying the windows?” Her eyebrows shot up and she eyed the thin aluminium frames. “Has anyone smashed one to get in?”
“Is that likely?”
I could drown her in statistics, tell her about all the different acts of violence that were perpetrated across the city, but I didn’t. That look of wariness was enough to stop me. Each time I saw it in her eyes, it made my heart ache. Most women would question a good Samaritan buying them groceries, but only ones who’d been treated badly would accept that gift with both reticence and abrasiveness. Imogen was waiting for the other shoe to drop, anticipating unconsciously the moment when the kindness would suddenly stop, or worse, reveal itself to be an act all along. My mate wasn’t going to allow herself to be love bombed again, that helped ease my pain somewhat.
“Security isn’t really about what’s likely or not,” I replied blandly. “It’s about trying to prepare for any eventuality. This system will make sure you know if anyone is trying to get access to your place without your permission. So, let’s go through the different features and how to use it.”
It was lucky I’d had this conversation a million times before. My mouth was moving, saying the words while my mind was elsewhere. Following the shape of her body I traced with my eyes, reading her reactions, soaking in her responses. I felt like the bear was pressing too hard against my skin as we tracked her every movement, but when I leaned over to see if the system was syncing to her phone, my control began to shred.
I wanted to touch her. I wanted to tease that small curl of hair that had pulled free of her bun at the nape of her neck, see if it sprung back when stretched. I wanted to hear her suck in a breath as my fingers slid up her spine, ready to pull her hair free. I wanted to collar her throat, feeling her heart beating frantically against my palm, right before her head tilted sideways, revealing her neck to me. I wanted her with a violence, a passion, an intensity, I’d never felt before.
Because no woman had ever touched me.
Not mentally, not emotionally, but also not physically. Some had offered the latter, maybe some of the former, but I could never take them up, not when I knew she was out there.
“One day,” Ursula had assured me. “One day you’ll see that girl from across a crowded room.” The cliche had me snorting. “One day you’ll see the other half of your heart, and it’ll all make sense.”
She was right, of course. My fingers twitched, the need to touch Imogen and keep my damn hands to myself making the muscles spasm, not sure what to do, so they hung in the space behind her as we peered at the screen.
“You too,” I’d told my sister. All the light went out of her eyes then, a familiar sadness settling over her.
“Maybe…” Her eyes dropped down. “But anyway, what the hell are you going to do when you find your fated mate? She could be anyone.”
I hadn’t had a plan then, and I was still struggling to create one now. Keep her safe, I swore to myself. I answered Imogen’s questions and helped her flick through the different camera views until Kyle approached with the wine.
“Potatoes are boiling and dinner’s got a way to go, so how about a celebratory drink? It might be a little low key as housewarming goes, but at least we brought practical gifts.”
“Thanks.” I watched Imogen accept the glass, then take an experimental sip, her eyes widening as she tasted the white wine.
“Good, right?”
My prompt had her bristling and the bear didn’t care. See me, talk to me, react to me, my heart beat.
“Very good,” she agreed. “So if we’re waiting for dinner, I don’t have a TV yet, so…” A slow grin formed. “I guess we go old school. How about a game of truth or dare?”
“I haven’t played that one before,” Lucas said, joining us in the living area. “How does it go?”
Us all sitting down around the rickety dining room table apparently.
“So, truth or dare,” Imogen said, surveying us all with a smile.
“Truth,” I replied, even as the others sucked in a breath to answer. It was what was sorely needed, even if we’d have to dance dangerously along the edge of telling her too much.
“What got you guys into working security and helping domestic violence victims?”
That was the most obvious question for her to ask and I had already been formulating responses in my head before she asked it, so I replied quickly.
“It’s something I’ve always been passionate about,” I replied. “I grew up with my family, had a happy home until…” The bear surged up, ready to take out any potential danger, always summoned by these memories, but I’d had plenty of practise in shoving him back down. I showed him the room, the food our mate had prepared, Imogen, and he allowed me to retain control. “Until my parents died. I was too young to identify my family and the relevant authorities didn’t manage to find them until much later, so I went into the foster system.”
Her eyes creased then, a familiar look of empathy on her face, but it was her hand sliding closer that surprised me. Her too by the look of it, because she stopped herself from gripping mine.
“While I don’t think all or even most foster parents do anything other than their best to care for kids in their care, mine… Mine and Ursula’s foster parents left a lot to be desired.” I nodded slowly. “What happened there made me protective of her, her friends, of all women, and when I got older, children too. When I see hurt kids, I…” A quick mouthful of wine, the sour/sweet taste washing over my palate, bringing moisture to a dry surface. “I see us. I don’t want any child to go through what we did, and I’ll do everything I can to ensure that’s the case.”
