Bear King's Curves: A BBW Werebear Shifter Romance (9 page)

“
What's up?”

“
It's nice to be around a man who's concerned
about what I eat for real reasons. Not because he wants to change my
figure.”

“
Hell no,”
I growled the words so there would be no doubt. “You're fine,
Lyla. And I do mean
fine
,
just the way you are.”

Our eyes met. For the first time since my cabin, we
allowed our lust to frolic, insistent and on the rise.

After all this, I couldn't imagine anything better than
getting her alone in one of these big lodge rooms. I gulped down the
rest of my coffee and squeezed her hand.

“
Hold on. I'll be right back. Let me go tell this
guy we've decided what we're gonna do.”

Mostly rest. Stay safe. And sort this shit out –
whatever that means.

I looked over my shoulder. Next to Lyla on the table sat
the artifact, carefully wrapped in a small plastic bag we'd gotten at
a gas station.

I didn't have a clue where to start. I'd exiled myself
from the Klamath Clan forever.

Two choices: stay with this beautiful woman I barely
knew and carve out a new life. Forget the sweet volcanic hill country
and forests of Northern California.

Or else learn as much as I could about this artifact and
why it was so damned valuable.

“
Excuse me, sir?”

The old Indian man came forward, his long gray haired
tied back in a ponytail. He took the form out of my hand.

“
We'd like to take the weekly rate. Off season.”

He nodded slowly and tapped a few keys on an ancient
looking computer. An equally archaic printer squealed, spitting out
our receipt.

Reaching for my wallet, I fished out the cash I expected
I'd need. Then he passed me the paper and I did a double take. The
numbers next to the dollar signs were a lot lower than expected.

“
What's this? I wasn't expecting such a cheap
rate, even for late autumn.”

“
Traveler's special,” he said. His eyes
glowed a little brighter, but stopped just short of winking.

I paid the cash, folded the receipt, and stuffed it into
my pocket. I waited before re-joining Lyla in the empty dining room.

I had to be damned sure this wasn't some kind of trap.
Not that any connection with my clan seemed possible in this remote
place.

That Indian can't possibly know anyone back home...

A chill worked its way up my spine. I had to be sure.

The walls where the dining hall and rooms forked had
tons of old pictures stacked along the walls. I looked them over
carefully. Didn't find any clues about this place there, nothing
alarming or obvious.

The old man was in a few images. I stopped at the last
row, a couple grainy black and white pictures dated in the early
1950s.

Behind a row of smiling men dressed like lumberjacks was
the front desk. The very same, sans the computer. The old man was
there too.

He hadn't aged a day in fifty years.

While I couldn't rule out the possibility he'd taken
over for a father, a grandfather, or someone else, the photos didn't
lie. The old manager in black and white was identical to the man I'd
just spoken to.

I looked over my shoulder, but no one was there.
Growling, I fingered the edge of the photo's frame.

Gods. Even bears didn't age that slowly.

I wondered who – or what – I was dealing
with here.

“
What is it, Nick? You've been awfully quiet since
you got back to the table.”

I sat in our room by the window, staring out at an early
morning frost. We were further north, where mountains and forests
snowed over quicker and deeper than the mild Klamath winter I was
used to.

“
That old man at the counter, the guy who manages
this place...”

Lyla relaxed on the bed near me, tilting her head in
confusion.

“
Something odd about him. He gave me a discount
without even asking. That's something no lodge in these parts should
do, especially when it looks like we're the only paying lodgers right
now.”

She sat up, a look of alarm souring her beautiful face.
I stood up, pushed onto the bed next to her, slipping a comforting
arm around her soft shoulders.

“
It's okay. I don't think we're in danger. I
searched the hallway high and low for any signs. Never heard of the
Klamath Clan having associates this far north either. Not in Idaho.”
I spoke slowly, deliberately probing my mind to make sure I hadn't
overlooked anything.

Think, damn it. Any missteps here could have a grave
price.

No, nothing. Whatever the old Indian's angle was, it
couldn't be a beef with me. Or Lyla, for that matter.

“
Then...what is it? Why do you think he'd do
something?”

“
The photos on the wall. Some of them go back
fifty or sixty years. I saw him in the background, looking just like
he does now.” Lyla's face tightened in surprise. “No, I
don't think he's a shifter. This is...something else.”

“
You need to talk to him. Find out.”

“
Yeah. I'm just not sure what the hell I'll
actually find.”

“
So much for getting away from it all...”

She was right. I leaned in and kissed her, grateful for
the vote of confidence buried in sarcasm. Gods, her plush skin was
amazing beneath my fingers, soft and warm and still amazingly sweet.

It didn't matter that we'd been on the run for almost a
full day without even a shower. No dirt, no wear and tear, could ever
tarnish her beautiful body.

I squeezed her tight. Lyla kissed me back, wet and
sultry. I sensed her heat, her scent, releasing pheromones of desire
that stopped just short of raging lust.

We were exhausted. My erection wanted her now, but my
brain demanded sleep.

Later,
I
promised.
We'll rest up and take her that much harder. And
she'll love every brutal second of it.

Lyla didn't protest as I pulled her close to me. We laid
together, my arms wrapped around her, hugging her close to my chest.

I almost lost you. Never again,
I vowed.

I swear it.

Soon, her curves rippled gently beneath my arms, rising
and falling in time to her breaths. Sleep had found her.

My blood pushed through my veins, warm currents
reminding me how badly I needed rest too. The last twenty-four hours
had easily been the most brutal and hectic of my life.

A shame it takes brutality to crystallize everything.
For nearly forty years, I'd always been someone's protege, a hired
gun of claws and fur directed by Branson or Beamer or some older
bear.

Back home, they're calling me a traitor,
I thought.
But at least I can call myself a man.

A man with a purpose much greater than anything
Klamath ever offered.

I nuzzled into Lyla's neck, careful not to wake her with
my scratchy stubble. She looked, smelled, and felt like perfection.

The dreams were dark.

The bear ran rampant, communing with the spirit world
all shifters sensed in their sleep. I was an animal again, prowling
through the wild, high grasses and untamed forests that existed long
before humans settled the Wild West in huge numbers, back when real
grizzly bears lived among our kind.

And my bear grew tired of the endless hunting and
fighting. Eventually, he laid down in a giant hollow, wanting to
rest, jealously guarding the curvy young human female stroking his
fur.

IV: The Destiny Stone (Lyla)

We slept together long and deep, all through the evening
and night. Waking up the next morning was like entering another
world.

I rolled, feeling the beautiful man next to me. His grip
lessened in his sleep, but he never took his arms off me, those
strong protective hands circled around my waist.

I woke first, rolled gently, and studied his face.

Every handsome detail tore at me. This face had
threatened, betrayed, loved, and protected.

All in the briefest handful of hours too, as if time and
emotion had been condensed by an angry god and funneled into him,
Nick Tunder, a creature who was more than just a man.

His eyes opened. Those ice colored eyes drew me in, a
breathtaking glacial landscape concealed in two neat gems.

“
Ready for a shower?”

I nodded. The nascent heat between my legs became a full
sauna, and doubled again when he took me by the hand and pulled me
up.

I followed him into the small, tidy bathroom attached to
our comfortable living space. Then the animal inside him awoke too,
the beast who pushed me against the wall and began tearing at my
clothes.

Nick kissed me hard, deep. I knew he shared my same raw
need. My stomach growled once, but I ignored it, too hungry for
something else.

“
Gods, you're a real woman,” he said,
pushing up my shirt. “Not a scrawny little female. Your hips,
your tits, your curves...give me a day. I'll run my tongue along
every inch of you.”

The low edge in his voice made me quiver. That was a
promise.

Before I knew it, my clothes were off, and I was
shuddering faster against the wall as he kissed his way up one leg.
Nick's fingers plunged into my swollen sex, deep into the wet cream
gushing to his thrusting fingers.

He
hammered me harder, incrementally increasing the pressure. I steadied
myself against the wall, hoping my knees wouldn't give out. Wave
after wave of brute, hot, animalistic pleasure –
his
pleasure – tore through me.

Orgasm hit like a whirlwind. My brain tipped upside
down. Crashing, drowning, rending apart in the white hot heat
electrifying my whole body.

Nick growled, pushing his thumb against my clit. I came
harder, curling my fingers and toes, spreading my body along the wall
in rapture.

Nothing was held back anymore. He made me feel
beautiful, as if he didn't see a single imperfection. And I quickly
learned how fast, how hard that made me come.

Apparently, good orgasms shared a direct relationship
with freedom, the liberty to be who I was really was. Or at least to
be worshiped as a beautiful woman first, and not a plus size
throwaway men took in desperation.

“
Come on,” Nick murmured, tugging at my hand
as my senses recovered. “Undress me.”

“
You got it! Can't imagine a better way to wake up
than this...”

He spread his arms and legs. I worked fast, tugging off
his shirt, and then the old jeans hugging his powerful hips.

His dark boxers were last. I hesitated for a second,
knowing that wicked cock would drive me wild the instant it appeared.

But the need to have his scent, his taste, was
officially too much. God! I really did need him after all we'd been
through...

No more waiting. His waistband snapped and I jerked it
to his knees.

Now he was naked, glorious, every angle of him pointed
and ready. He lifted me up. I brushed against his naked skin,
weathering his embrace, every fiber of my being roaring to have him
inside me.

Shit. We don't even have any condoms. I'll have to
settle for something else, and hope that's sufficient to tame the
beast inside him.

Nick's eyes beamed into mine. I walked backwards with
him guiding me, stepping carefully into the shower.

He stopped to grab the soap and crank on the water. The
sleek shower head sprayed, hurling its droplets over us, but mostly
across every rock hard inch of him.

Nick moved to the wall and clasped his hands behind his
head. “Work me over, Lyla. I'm giving you my trust.”

Yes!

Snapping to attention, I grabbed the bar of soap, trying
not to get too distracted by the aching sight of water jets screaming
across his muscles. The streams exploded, showering his hard peaks
and valleys, rolling down slabs of muscle in purifying rivulets.

He deserved this. And so did I, especially after all
we'd suffered.

I lathered him up myself, starting at his neck and
moving to his shoulders. He turned, letting me get his back good and
deep. A satisfied growl burbled up from his throat as I massaged his
body, admiring the endless hard hills and dips between pure granite.

When I came to his ass, I squeezed. His cheeks were so
hard, so wonderful, so strong.

They rippled beneath my hands. My nails teased his skin,
scratching where his glutes met his back thighs. He groaned and
growled.

I moaned, tasting a few stray water droplets on my
tongue. I leaned in behind him, drawing my hands to his hard abs
around the front, kissing his neck.