Gray Back Broken Bear (Gray Back Bears Book 4) (4 page)

Something strange was happening. Ana stopped shaking, and she went all warm and soft in his arms. She stepped even closer, pressing her body flush against his. Vanilla. Her hair was silk against the rasp of his beard. Such a contrast to him. Good Ana. Bad Beaston. Another song came on. Another slow one. Gia was controlling the jukebox now and threw a middle finger at one of Kong’s lowlanders for complaining. Was Willa crying? No, couldn’t be. Just a trick of the lights playing with his eyes. Ana felt so good against him, but now that she was so close, she’d feel how excited he was. How could she not? His dick was hard as a rock between them.

“I have a boner.” Perfect. That would set the mood. Idiot.

“For me?” Ana asked. Was that hope in her voice? She looked up with those ensnaring eyes.

God damn, she felt good pressed up against his dick like this. “That was supposed to scare you away.”

“It doesn’t. I like that you say what you mean.”

He liked that about her, too. Honest notes in all her words and shit, she felt good. Good, good, good. Ana, his Ana. He wanted her under him, on top of him. Fuck.

“I have to go,” he murmured. A deep frown hurt his face. He didn’t want to leave her, but she was as fragile as a dry leaf, and he wasn’t the beast for her.
Quiet bear, where are you?
The lights were too bright in here.

“Okay,” she said, disappointment pooling in her big, blue eyes.

His guts hurt. He’d done that, disappointed her, but it was best this way, leaving now. He would only disappoint her more if she knew how fucked up he really was.

Bowing, he kissed her hand like mom had taught him, then he strode for the door and past Willa whose sad eyes matched Ana’s.

Don’t look back.

He blasted through the door and out into the dusty, gravel parking lot.

He turned and glared at the door as it swung closed behind him. A long growl rattled his chest, and there he was—the beast in his middle.

Every step Easton took away from the bar hurt, but he forced himself to walk to Jason’s truck and dropped the tailgate. He sat on it and looked at the stars. If he was lucky, the others would be headed out here now to go back to the Grayland Mobile Park with him.

“Did I make you angry?” Ana asked from behind him.

Easton jumped. Shit, how had she snuck up on him?

She was shaking again, badly. This made no damned sense. Ana was obviously terrified around him, yet she kept approaching him.

“You make me feel like a monster.” It had been meant to hurt her, and his words did. That much was obvious by her face falling. More gutting him, more ache. She shouldn’t have this kind of power over him. No one should. She was going to draw out his bear.

But…his inner grizzly had stopped snarling again.

“You’re not a monster,” Ana said low as she stepped carefully over a pothole in the gravel. “And if you ever say that around me again, I won’t talk to you anymore.” As the brave little human dragged her gaze back to his, she looked angry. Smelled angry. Vanilla and fury. “You’re good.”

“I’m not.”

She eased closer and rested her hands light as feathers on his knees. “You
are
.” Her tone had turned to grit and steel.

Easton froze under her touch. Ana was fragile, and he would hurt her if he moved. Settling in between his legs, she cupped his face gently with her palms. She searched his eyes and smiled. “I liked dancing with you. And when we talk, I get butterflies in my stomach.”

“I make you sick?”

“No,” she said through a laugh. He liked the sound. Soft and feminine, her giggle tinkled like a bell. “I mean, you make me have flutters in my stomach because I like the way you make me feel.”

“You’re pretty.” He cleared his throat and swallowed hard. He could do that part better. “I think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” There. Better. That felt right.

She smiled again and stroked her thumbs across his cheeks. “I always wondered what it would be like to have you say that to me.”

Easton gripped her wrists and shook his head, confused. “I don’t understand you.”

Ana stood on her tiptoes and rubbed her cheek softly against his. Silk against the rasp of his scruff. More proof of how different they were. He was a jagged river rock, and she was the gentle water.

Now it was Ana who was steady as Easton’s heart raced and his breath shook. She was so close, so warm, touching him.
Him
. He wasn’t a stupid man, and he knew he would never see Ana again, but for tonight, for right now, he was going to enjoy a woman pretending he was something more than a monster.

His breath came in shallow pants now as the corner of her lips brushed his. Closing his eyes, he threaded his fingers through her soft hair and gripped gently.
Don’t go.
The next time she eased back to brush her cheek against his, he pressed his lips to hers as gently as a delicate woman like Ana deserved. His bear pushed for more—harder, faster.
Taste her!
But Easton forced his hands and lips to be easy. Easton had told her he wouldn’t hurt her, and he wouldn’t. Not now, not ever.

He stifled the urgent growl in his throat so he wouldn’t scare her. Ana angled her face and sucked gently on his lips. Fuck, he wanted more. Needed it. He nipped softly at her mouth, grazing her with his teeth, and she let off a quiet moan that did disastrous things to his middle. Burning, fire, dick so hard.

He just wanted a taste. A small one. Just one.

As her lips moved against his, he touched the closed seam of her mouth with his tongue. A request, not a demand, because Ana was good, and she should make the decision whether to let a beast like him in.

Her lips parted, and he brushed his tongue against hers. Fuck, he was being too rough with her hair. He dropped his hands down to her waist and dragged her closer, pressed her against his erection because she felt right and warm between his legs.

He kissed her harder. Not his fault—his bear’s fault. The animal was in his head, pushing to be closer to Ana now. She slid her arms over his shoulders and tightened around his neck, pulling him nearer.
Don’t hurt her, Bear. Be gentle.
Fragile, delicate Ana. He was an avalanche, and she was a hummingbird. Courageous little creature. Sexy.

She rolled her hips against his, and he gritted his teeth, pulling away from their kiss as he rested his forehead against hers. “Ana,” he warned her shakily. She was undoing him.

“I like when you call me that.” She hesitated, then kissed him once more, a soft peck that plucked at his lips. With a smile, she backed away. “Your crew is waiting to leave.”

Easton dragged his gaze away from her and over his shoulder. The Gray Backs were coming out of the bar.

Ana headed toward a white car.
Don’t go.
She unlocked it, then slid in behind the wheel. When the engine roared to life, she rolled down the window.
Goodbye, Easton.
He knew it was coming. The words that would rip his insides out.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Easton,” she said with a shy smile and pink cheeks.

Stunned, he stood from the tailgate and watched her drive away.

Ana had made him feel almost normal tonight, but that wasn’t the only gift she’d given him.

She’d given him his first kiss.

Easton sat on the back porch of his trailer and watched the progress of the sun as it sank down behind the mountains. He fingered the strand of frayed, black silk ribbon he’d taken from the raven’s treasure box this morning before work on the landing. The day had been hard as his focus had drifted this way and that between thoughts of Ana and the meaning of the black ribbon that he’d tucked deep inside his pocket.

It served as a reminder. Ana was frail like Mom had been. She wouldn’t survive a man like him, so it was best that her words, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Easton,” had been nothing more than a pretty lie. She didn’t even know where he lived.

He pulled the length of ribbon through his fingers. A raven’s sympathy.

“Where has he gone off to?” Mom asked, hands on her hips as she squinted against the setting sun that threw the front yard into the golds and oranges of autumn.

Easton had just hit his first grizzly growth spurt and was almost as tall as his human mother now. He shrugged and pressed his hand against her belly where the undulating was the strongest. It was a boy, a little brother. He just knew it. “Maybe he fell asleep somewhere.”

Mom inhaled deeply. She was tired lately and had trouble moving around. Her feet swelled at night, and she was short of breath, but Dad didn’t let her ease up on the chores. Not this close to winter.

“Next year, can I go to school with other kids?” he asked. He wouldn’t dare mention it to Dad. He already knew that answer.

Dad would say, “Boy, you know what you are? You gotta bear inside of you, and humans can’t be trusted with that kind of information. We stay out here in the woods for survival. Get that cockamamied idea out of your head. School.” And then he’d spit in the grass because he always did that when Easton asked a dumb question. He spat on the ground the same as he used a period at the end of a sentence. Discussion closed.

Mom was softer, though. She understood how lonely it was out here.

She smiled sadly down at him and squeezed his shoulder. “Things were going to be different, Easton. I had plans for you and me, but the baby derailed them. Maybe someday, but not now.”

Plans? Troubled, Easton looked out over the yard again as his senses picked up something that lifted the fine hairs on the back of his neck. Something was wrong in their woods.

“Dad?” he called, stepping off the porch.

Movement stirred the dry grass in the brush just behind the tree line.

Easton trotted forward at the sound of a pained groan, and Mom followed as she was able.

Dad appeared from behind the trees, stumbling and slow. Easton couldn’t understand what he was seeing, though. Dad’s head was crooked on his shoulders.

“Oh, my God,” Mom whispered in horror. “Easton, don’t look.” She covered Easton’s face with her hands and yanked him to a stop. “I said don’t look!” Mom was sobbing now. “Go back into the house!” she screamed as she ran for Dad.

Dad fell to his knees, body convulsing as he toppled over sideways.

Easton approached slowly, horrified as Mom cried over him. His neck had been snapped. No.

“Russ,” Mom cried. “What do I do? Can I reset it?”

“No,” Dad wheezed.

“I don’t understand. I don’t understand! How did this happen? No. It’ll be okay. I’ll fix it. Easton get back in the house! Don’t look!”

Maybe Dad had fallen out of a tree or over a ravine. His shifter healing had worked, but froze his broken neck at the wrong angle. Some injuries were too bad for even shifters to survive. All his life, Dad had taught him not to get careless with his healing. Easton heaved breath as Mom wept and positioned herself above his body. She was going to re-break his neck.

“Mom,” Easton said, voice thick. He shook his head. “It won’t work.”

“Mae,” Dad choked out.

“What is it Russ. What is it?”

“Mae…I’m sorry.” A long last breath escaped his lips, and his eyes rolled closed.

“No!” Mom screamed. She pulled hard on Dad’s head, but breaking a neck wasn’t so easy. Not for weak humans. “Don’t leave me here! Don’t leave me!”

Mom’s agony tore at his own burning heart. Dad. Easton dropped to his knees in shock at how broken he looked. How grotesque he looked in death with his bulging neck. He’d come back to say goodbye. Tears streamed down his face as he buried his head against Dad’s stomach. He was still warm and smelled of life. “Dad,” he murmured, gripping his clothes and dampening his shirt with tears.

The raven fluttered and flapped in the branches above, but he couldn’t pull himself away from Dad’s body. He and mom sat like that for a long time, crying against him until he grew cold and stiff.

Easton had never heard someone break before, but he knew whatever was happening to Mom was awful.

Mom shook his body. “I was going to take him and leave, and you wouldn’t let me! He can control his bear now. We could’ve made it! And you ripped that away from me. And now you’ve left me? You’ve left us here in this hell you created? You can’t.” She clenched his shirt in her fists. “You can’t, Russel. Do you hear me? Easton will be all alone!”

All alone?

So many tears. Mom’s face leaked on and on, long after Easton had run dry. He eased away, lay against a felled tree and watched Mom cry. The evening shadows had turned to darkness as the sun sank behind the mountains. The light from the cabin was the only thing that lit the clearing. Not even the moon was full enough to lend them adequate light. Mom stood up, muttering strings of words that didn’t make any sense at all. They meant nothing. Maybe they weren’t even words at all.

Mom didn’t see him anymore as she stood and began gathering wood. Her eyes had gone empty, and her tears had dried on her cheeks. She couldn’t see as well in the dark as him, yet she found wood as though she had the forest memorized.

Silently, he helped her. He was small yet, only eight, but Mom was pregnant and heartbroken, and whatever she was doing right now, he could lighten her load. Alongside her, he dragged wood into the clearing in front of their cabin until the early hours of the morning. She didn’t answer him when he asked questions, so he gave up trying.

And when the first streaks of pink brushed the horizon, Mom asked him to help her drag Dad’s body to the pile of wood. And then she lit a match and watched him burn.

Easton buried his face against Mom’s side and clutched her dirty dress, unable to watch the fire consume his dad. “Why?” he asked.

Mom inhaled deeply and asked, “Easton?” as if she’d only just noticed him clutching onto her.

“Why are we burning him?”

“Because, my boy. Your daddy would haunt these woods for always. You and I see the ghosts, Easton. We’ll burn his belongings and put salt around the house next. That’s what you do, Easton. Can you remember that?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said on a choked breath. He could smell Dad burning.

“Repeat it for me.”

“Burn the bones, burn the belongings, salt.”

“That’s a good boy.” Her voice sounded strange—dreamy—as she watched the flames. “You’ll need to do the same thing for my body.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Promise me, Easton. Don’t let me haunt you.”

And that’s when he felt it.

Mom’s belly was pulled up tight like a drum.

Easton gritted his teeth against the pain in his middle. He could still smell the smoke from the funeral pyre. The ribbon had done that. The raven’s trinkets held magic in them. She’d left it on the window sill for him to find when he’d gone back to the house with Mom. It was the raven’s way of telling him she was sorry for his loss, though how a young crow understood so much was beyond him.

Maybe she’d been his spirit animal.

If he hadn’t held her gift in his hand now, he could’ve convinced himself she hadn’t existed at all.