Bear Prince: Shifter Paranormal Romance (Royal Bears Book 1) (6 page)

CHAPTER

7

As Hannah went to get ready for school, Andrei finished the rest of his pancakes and cleared the table. While she was dressing, he wolfed down another helping of pancakes, and prepared batter for more. Andrei couldn’t risk letting her see how much food he ate. She would realize that something was different about him, and that would lead to questions he wasn’t prepared to answer- not yet.

He felt the lingering warmth of her touch on his shoulder, radiating with crackling energy. It surged through him like the rhythmic thrum of his pulse. He reached over to brush his own fingers across the spot on his bare shoulder where she’d so briefly touched it.

Her bedroom door opened, and he watched as she marched toward the door, her eyes glued to the carpet two feet in front of her. She had her backpack slung over her shoulder, helping to hide her face as she passed him.

“Hannah?”

“Bye, Andrew. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

The door closed behind her, leaving Andrei alone with his thoughts.

For the first time, he hated her apartment. Bear raged at him to get their mate, drag her back. If she’d been one of his people, this never would have gone on as long as it had. He would have claimed her, marked her as his. She’d be his mate before his people and already full with his Heir. But she wasn’t a Bear. She was human, and sheltered, and too sweet for him to make decisions for her, with callous disregard of her feelings. If he pressed his own needs- and he could press, seduce her into forgetting her scruples- that would make him little better than a rapist.

And there wasn't a single wall in this apartment his fist wouldn’t shatter into little pieces were he to indulge the impulse.

Perhaps it was better this way. What did she know about Bears, much less about the life of a royal? To bring her to Casakraine, to become Princess and eventually Queen… he laughed. She wanted to
dance
. It wouldn't be fair. The honorable thing would be to walk away like she’d asked. Walk away and leave her heart and body intact. Allow her to find a nice, normal human man to settle down with. Have babies, worry about… what did middle class couples worry about? He hadn’t marked her, it was possible for her to find someone else. Suffering would subside after the first few days, since they’d never sealed the bond.

Would she go hungry? Would her husband treat her well? Would she have to worry about a decent place to live?

He didn’t want her to worry about anything, ever. Honor demanded he give her space and time to think. Walk away and approach her later with the truth, and let her decide. Andrei ate his pancakes, cleaned up the kitchen and took out his laptop. He had work to do, compounded by his present self-initiated furlough, and no time to indulge himself in more fruitless mental gnashing.

Work to do, and a decision to make.

***

He was gone when she came home. Numb, she checked the bathroom, the closet. Empty of his belongings. She went into the kitchenette to make a sandwich- she had to eat, even if she wasn’t hungry. Saw the note on the fridge. He’d left a casserole in the oven.

Hannah sat down, hard, almost missing the chair. Wouldn’t that be great, banging her head on the table and needing stitches she couldn’t afford?

He’d left her a casserole.

Tears blurred her eyes. How could he think she would eat? Was it so easy for him to leave? She’d hoped he would stay, would speak, say something that indicated he wanted more than just a physical relationship. Wanted something she could give him and still keep her values. But he’d just left. And something inside her twisted, withered. A glowing thread of connection between them flickering, going dim. And as it died, something in her began to flicker and dim as well.

She pillowed her head on her arms and cried.

***

Two days dragged by. Hannah made herself go to classes. Made herself eat, even though food left her nauseous. Her whole body trembled, her heart bitter ashes in her chest. She thought about going to a classmate’s place and watching television. Anything to fill the hole, the emptiness. The loneliness. Andrew had managed to wedge his way into her life, show her possibilities of pleasure and connection outside of dance. And now she had to go back to the way it was before.

A knock on the door. She jerked, sending a glass of water tumbling. Hannah cussed, the expletive falling from her lips with a new ease. A bad habit she’d picked up from Andrew. He’d cuss over his pans when he thought she wasn’t paying attention
.
The knock again and she hurried to the door, peering out of the peephole. And stilled.

“I know you’re there, Hannah,” Andrew said. “I can hear you breathing.” He paused. “You know I can hear you. Can we talk?”

She opened the door. They stared at each other. Hannah didn’t know who moved first, only that his beautiful eyes flared, brightened until they were brilliant summer sky jewels, and his arms were around her, face buried in her neck.

“I tried to stay away,” he said, voice tight. “But why should I? You’re mine.” Strong fingers dug into her curls at the nape, pulling her head back. “Do you understand? Mine, Hannah. My mate. I wanted to spare you the life I lead- I know it’s not what you want, but I don’t care. I want you with me.”

Her heart stopped a split second, then sped up. He’d called her
mate.

“You mean… you want a real relationship? You want marriage?”

He sighed. “Sweet, what I want is so much more permanent than marriage. You will never be able to leave me. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t. You would wither and become ill and…” he stopped, jaw clenching. Face pale, skin taut over sharp bones as the something feral moved under the surface again. “I’m selfish to do it to you. You’re human. You have no idea…”

“I want to be with you,” she said. Placing a hand flat on his chest, certainty welled in her mind, in her heart. “I want to be your… mate.” She bit her lip. “As long as that means there’s a ring and a certificate, too.”

Andrew laughed. A strained laugh. “You can have any ring you want and a certificate in every country in which I have influence. Starting with this one.”

She leaned into him. “Kiss me.
”
Her hands gripped the cloth at his back, nails digging into skin and muscle. She’d never been so close to a man before.

“Mine,” he growled, backing her into the apartment and shutting the door. And captured her lips.

His tongue licked along the curve of her lips, and another surge of heat raced between her legs. She gasped, lips parted, allowing his tongue to explore her mouth. This sensation unlike anything she’d ever felt. She wanted more.

His hands cupped her face, drawing her more deeply into this kiss. He was tender, delicate. Raw strength flexed underneath her touch, yet he was as gentle as a feather tickling her nose.

“Andrew…”

“I know.” He said the words through gritted teeth, then swore, grabbing her hand. “Let’s go out. Somewhere… with no bed. And lots of people. We can make plans.”

“Touch me,” she whispered.

“What?”

Hannah would have laughed from the half frustrated, half aggrieved expression on his face. She took his hands and placed them over her breasts. Eyes widening slightly, he paused for a moment as if waiting for her to change her mind. When she didn’t, he began to knead the soft flesh, pinching her stiffening nipples through the fabric of her bra and shirt as he kissed her again.

Her parents would be disappointed. But she trusted Andrew, and this was
her
life. Her love.
Her
body to give. Hannah knew what she wanted. She’d never wanted anything more in her life. She’d thought her career as a dancer would be the most fulfilling experience of her life, but this… whatever this was… made her realize how wrong she had been.

Hannah took one hand and pushed it lower. He pushed it between her legs, and the friction against her jeans pulled a moan from between her lips. His head dipped to kiss the tender flesh of her neck, and she tangled her fingers in his hair, tilting her head back to allow him easier access.

“I cannot resist you,” he said, the trickle of his lyrical accent thickening to a river. “I can’t hold out any longer.”

“Then don’t,” she said.

He pulled back, eyes narrowed, teeth bared in a feral expression that almost frightened her. His hands gripped her waist, tension in him as if he were struggling with whether to push her away or pull her closer.

“Andrew… don’t resist,” she said, placing her hands on either side of his face. “I want this. Please.”

“Be certain, Hannah. There is no going back.”

“I’m certain.” She smiled at him.

He closed his eyes, as if pained. But before she knew it, Hannah found herself scooped into his arms. She felt so tiny against his broad chest. Until that moment, she’d barely noticed his unusual height, though she had certainly appreciated his muscular form. Andrew laid her on her bed, fingers trailing over her arms as if she was something precious as he drew away. She watched as he unbuttoned his shirt, movements spare and deliberate. He held her eyes, giving her time to change her mind.

Hannah sat up, pushed his hands away. “Let me do it.”

Her fingers trembled a little, but she got the shirt unbuttoned, pushing aside cloth with a boldness she hadn’t known was in her, exposing a pale, sculpted chest, strong arms with biceps she wouldn’t be able to wrap hands around. Pale, and perfect. She laid her hand over his pecks, taking in the contrast of their coloring.

“You’re like the Ice King in the mountain,” she said, caressing him. “So pale.”

Gold underneath the pale, and the faint shadow of blue veins. At the word ‘king’ his body flexed, muscles tensing under her hand. She glanced up. His head lowered, dark hair obscuring his face.

“If I am the Ice King,” he said, voice deep and rich like molasses, “then you are my Sun Queen, mistress of ancient desert sands. I will drape you in gold and lapis lazuli, and cover you in silks.”

She smiled at his fanciful words, delivered with a small smile despite the intense, dark heat of his eyes. She was browner than modern day Egyptians, more Ethiopian than Arab, even with her long curls.

Her fingers hovered over the button of his trousers for a moment before slowing unzipping, pushing the cloth down his hips. He wore silk underneath, his erection unfettered.

She hesitated, heat in her cheeks. “You’ll tell me what you like?”

His brow rose. “My Queen, this night is for you. Your pleasure is my pleasure.” Andrew pushed her down onto her back, lips hovering overs hers. “Your breath is my breath.” He placed a hand over her heart, his touch burning through her skin. “Your heart is my heart. Don’t you know you’re everything to me?”

She stared up into jewel bright eyes, and was lost.

He plucked at the strap of her camisole, peeling cloth down her body. She took a moment to worry about the utilitarian undergarments she wore- a support sports bra and seamless cotton panties, both in boring black. And, God, she hadn’t even
showered.
She opened her mouth, about to suggest a recess, when his warning look silenced her. He pulled the camisole down her body, taking jogging pants and leggings with it, leaving her bare to his gaze except for her still bound breasts.

“Open your legs for me,” he said, eyes darkening to midnight.

Hannah opened her legs, slowly, revealing secret flesh, beckoning with silent sensuality. Her back arched, just a little, and his gaze flicked back up her body.

“The bra.”

She obeyed, sitting up to pull the tight elastic band over her head, allowing her full breasts to spill free. Full, plenty for his hands to cup and knead. She hissed, nipples hardening under the caress of his fingers. His mouth fastened on puckered flesh, suckling, nipping. Biting. The worship sent tiny pulses of electricity to the place between her legs she’d only learned about in books. Had only touched in secret, in the deep of night.

The possessiveness in his stare shivered up her spine. There was a hardness to his look that made him dangerous and seductive. As if something primal lurked under the surface, ready to pounce. To devour. He wrapped an arm around her back as her bones gave out, lowering her back down to the bed.

“You’ll remember this night when we’re old and gray,” he said, kissing up her throat. He paused where her vein fluttered in time to her heart, teeth scraping. “First, I’m going to lick your pussy.”

“Andrew!” His explicit words shocked her, bringing heat to her cheats, ironically, even when his foreplay hadn’t. White teeth flashed.

“What?” he purred. “Pussy. You have one, sweet.” He took her hand, led it down her body, placing her fingers over her nub. Watched her face as he guided her. “Say it. Pussy.”

Her lips pursed.
Absolutely
not.

In a quick movement he pulled her to the edge of the bed, swinging her around so her hips dangled over. He knelt beneath her, mussed hair over brilliant eyes, a wicked grin on his face. Her legs draped over his shoulders, his smile too close… to that place.

“If you don’t say it, I’m going to lick you until you scream,” he said. “And I’m sure you don’t want the neighbors to hear you. But if you say it, I’ll make sure to muffle your voice when you call my name.”

Oh, God. She closed her eyes. “Andrew, this is ridiculous. It’s just a word.”

“Then why won’t you say it?”

She blew out a breath. “Pussy.”

He laughed. The sound wrapped around her body, sinfully plush velvet. “Don’t be so shy, Hannah. I’m about to fuck you in every way known to man.” He paused, watching her face. “On the other hand- keep your shyness. It adds… spice.”

And then there was no talking. She cried out, hands gripping the thin dollar store sheets, knees locking around his neck as his tongue lapped her nub. She’d never thought such pleasure possible, and when his fingers dipped inside her… pussy… she thought her hips would bolt off the edge of the bed.

Andrew held her down. Licking, teasing. Fingers inside of her warming her body. Pools of molten heat gathering between her thighs as her body trembled on an edge.

“Do you want me?” he asked, hands gripping her thighs. “Last chance to deny me. Last chance to run away.”

Her head shook, curls flying in her vehemence. “No, no, don’t go.” The force of her conviction startled her, the strength in her voice a contrast to her earlier hesitance. “Please, Andrew.”

His forehead touched the bed a moment. He said something, voice muffled.

“What?”

“My name.” He looked up. “It’s Andrei. My name is Andrei. Andrew is the… American version. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.”