His to Bear: Icy Cap Den #1 (Alaskan Den Men) (2 page)

“Gives a whole new meaning to the term ‘bareback,’” I mutter.

The bear snorts, blowing a plume of snow off the ground. It doesn’t sound like a laugh, but then again, ice bears aren’t known for their sense of humor.

We leave the soft glow of the cabin and plunge into the darkness. He plows through belly-deep snow, cutting across the landscape with a surprisingly smooth gait. The cold immediately diminishes my senses. I lose all sense of direction within minutes.

Once or twice, Ash slows, presumably to check for directions, before picking up his speed again. He moves unconcerned about running into another trap himself. Probably not a great idea, when I think about it. The storm mutes all signs of life. We meet no one on our trek.

Nature is the ultimate predator. If we get separated, I’ll die of exposure. Already I can feel my limbs stiffening and my brain becoming sluggish due to the cold.

Ash stops, leaving some space between us and the small semicircle of cabins ahead. This is Trudy’s camp.

I slide off his back stiffly, finding my legs clumsy. I stamp my feet, trying to get the blood moving. I would like to get inside, but my thighs won’t budge.

I flex my hands inside my thick gloves. Maybe I can walk on my hands? No forward motion below my waist is possible at this rate.

Back in human form, Ash scoops me up in his arms, then strides through the deep snow naked. He certainly has that shifting thing down. My eyelids feel frozen, but when he touches me, heat starts seeping back into my body.

All too soon we’re inside Trudy’s small cabin. My goggles steam up immediately, rendering me temporarily blind.

“She’s pretty cold. Give her a few minutes to warm up. You OK?” Ash pulls my backpack off as he greets Trudy. “I’m gonna take a look around outside.”

I smell her blood. I hear her heartbeat. She is still alive. Ash throws more logs in the fireplace. I rotate slowly so my backside faces the heat. I’m coming back to myself.

Trudy murmurs something, but it isn’t very encouraging or intelligible.

Removing my goggles, I get my first look at Trudy’s place. Even though I consider her my best friend, she never invites me over. That isn’t unusual. We always meet at Ash’s cabin, the hot spot for local residents wanting to try out socializing or conduct business in a town with no offices.

Visiting my patients’ homes sates my voyeuristic bent. Or, to put it another way, I am a nosy vamp. Paranorms are paranoid about their homes for a reason. Years of your species being hunted will do that.

I’m always surprised how ordinary most paranorms’ lives are. Trudy is no exception. She’s decorated the place thoroughly in shabby chic. Upon closer inspection, I realize all the furnishings are original, not a recent spruce-up. The square cabin has a utilitarian kitchen in one back corner. Next to that, a narrow door stands ajar, leading to a very small bathroom. Her bed is in the other rear corner. There is a potbelly stove with a chimney in the center of the room. By the front window, an old paint-splattered table holds her computers. Since she’s a tech person, they are her livelihood. Outside of the bed and computer table, the room is mostly stacks of detective novels.

I feel a rush of anger seeing her lying so listless in her bed. Whoever did this to her is going to pay. I might be a physician, but the vampire part of me wants vengeance. Of course, the perpetrator has to be found. I’ll bug Ash later about possible suspects. He has to have some idea who would be attacking paranorms across his territory.

If Ash hadn’t told me he and Trudy were in high school together here years ago, I’d have never believed she wasn’t a teenager now. Everyone knows how fixated vamps are on aging. That’s true to a certain degree. If you’re going to live forever you might as well look your best.

Trudy looks like an Irish lass—fair skin, freckles, green eyes, and truly red hair. As usual, Trudy’s eyebrows are barely visible. She looks permanently startled. I’m not a whiz with cosmetics, but an eyebrow pencil needs to enter her life. When she recovers, maybe I can talk her into going down to Fairbanks for a girls’ shopping spree. Lord knows my stationery stash is running low.

I knew Trudy was a shifter, but that’s about it. I suspected a bird, but maybe that’s just because I always wanted to fly. Unfortunately, that isn’t part of my vampire package deal.

Alaskans like their privacy. A lot. Now I’m about to get to know her a whole lot better.

I’ve warmed up enough to root around in my bag without my gloves. I purposely keep my eyes averted when I ask my next question. In med school we learned that many paranorms avoid eye contact with vampires, mainly because of misinformation. For the record, it’s a lot harder to glamour someone than it looks.

“Falcon?” I busy myself pulling on gloves. Until I clean the foul magic out of her wound, I risk getting contaminated.

“Fox.”

Of course. Fox. I’ve been fixated on Trudy’s hyper energy and nervousness, thinking of her as a skittish bird. Now I can totally see her as a fox: smart, private, and wily. If she hadn’t been seriously injured, I’d probably never have seen the inside of her den.

Using a saline solution, I rinse out her wound just as I would with any human. Not only is her skin lacerated, the edges of the wound are burned. The trap was enchanted, all right. Dark magic hid it from a paranorm’s enhanced senses, and an additional spell coated the trap’s metal teeth, preventing detection. Once the trap was sprung, the whole thing stank like egg salad in a hot car.

The wound is the same as those I’ve seen in the other two victims. Someone has it in for paranorms around Icy Cap. Two questions nag at me: who and why?

“I’m giving you a dose of pain med,” I say briskly. “It might make you feel sleepy. It’ll take the edge off when I fix you up.”

Trudy’s lips press together as I inject the painkiller. I don’t have to wait long. With her slight weight, the medicine takes effect quickly. Soon her face relaxes. She lays her head back, blinking slowly to ward off sleep.

“Just rest. You don’t need to talk. You’ll feel better soon, I promise.”

“Ash is happy lately.” One of Trudy’s free hands fumbles at the thick computer-language manual next to her on the bed.

She’s in no shape to read a computer manual, let alone work. I think about removing it but decide against it. I’ve never formally diagnosed Trudy, but she’s somewhere on the anxiety spectrum. Given her recent experience, dog-earring a book is the least of her problems.

“He has a lot to be proud of. The inn renovations are coming along.” I pack her wound with the bright green arctic moss the fae collect at solstice. After a few moments, the wound’s sulfur odor neutralizes and I remove the moss. Now the moss is white and brittle, as if it’s been flash frozen.

“A shifter needs a mate.”

“You know what they say,” I remark wryly. “Charity begins at home. Anyone you’ve been keeping an eye on? A certain ice bear?” I focus on my suturing.

“You mean the sheriff?” Trudy’s nervous fingers stop mauling the pages. Oh sweet Jesus. I hadn’t meant Ash. I’d been thinking of how attentive Tristan was. Now, though, with all that painkiller lowering Trudy’s inhibitions, I panic. Is she going to wax on about how wonderful he is? And am I going to have to listen?

Not that I don’t agree, but I remember from my human days that there are few things worse than hearing another woman praise the guy you like. Especially since I can never have him.

Trudy is perfect for Ash. She’s a shifter too. She’s from Icy Cap. She’s known him for years.

I feel a stab of jealousy.

“Me and Ash? That’s funny. Ash is a great guy, but you haven’t met Dane. He’s
hawt
.” Trudy giggles.

Good news: the pain meds are working.

I haven’t met Ash’s twin brother, Dane, but I’ve scrapbooked more than a few pictures of him. The brothers have identical features except that instead of Ash’s fair hair and light eyes, Dane is all dark, broody good looks.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I’d invite Ash to warm my bed any day if it wasn’t for that whole staking thing.

So Trudy has a thing for the smoldery twin? I’m willing to bet Tristan doesn’t know that. Luckily I’m in no position to tell him.

“You’re not like other vampires I’ve met. You care about people.”

“That’s my job.” I give her wound a sniff. No sour odor, which means the dark magic is gone. I hate to think what would happen if that wound festered.

“So, what about you and the sheriff?” Trudy asks.

I’m starting to wish I’d given her a little less pain medication. It doesn’t function as truth serum with most people.

“You should rest now. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

“Admit it,” Trudy presses. “You like him. And I know he likes you.”

Thank God I’ve got more self-respect as a vampire than to hang on every last word from Trudy like a lovesick teenager.

“Life is complicated, Trudy.”

“No shit. This medicine is awesome, by the way. Any chance you can leave me some for later?”

“None at all.”

I
head back outside
. Being in close proximity to Meg and seeing Trudy injured, my bear spirit paces inside me, eager to fight whatever is attacking innocent residents.

Activity is the only thing that will calm my bear. Behind the cabin, I find a bloody trail leading from the woodshed to the back door, a mix of human and fox tracks. It’s lucky Tristan freed Trudy when he did, or the outcome would have been deadly.

I’m surprised Tristan hasn’t showed up yet. Maybe he’s following up on a lead. I’ll ask him later. He’s hung around Trudy ever since he arrived in Icy Cap.

I find the trap near the generator, as she said I would. Whoever set it was serious about catching a fox, and they didn’t care how they did it. I close my eyes, reaching for my ice bear spirit within. I sift through smells of humans, foxes, birds, and other small mammals. Something else too. Musky. Familiar, but I can’t place it. Unease stirs within me.

I dig around using a downed branch, hoping to trigger any other traps. I come up empty. Whoever set the trap picked the perfect spot. Not only would the trap maim, but the distance from her cabin meant she could have frozen to death. I wonder if the sick fuck watched the whole thing.

With the trap sprung, I hang it up against the cabin as I did at my place. I start the generator, then stack wood by the back door. Trudy can easily grab it here when she feels better.

Seems like as good a time as any to split more wood, blizzard or no. I retrieve the ax from the woodshed, the handle feeling solid in my hand. Stacking a log on an old tree stump, I split that sucker into two perfect halves. Now if I could only have the culprit’s head, I’d be making progress.

Set. Swing. Split.

Set. Swing. Split.

I move into the motions, losing myself in the activity.

“What did that log ever do to you?” Meg pops her head out the kitchen window. “She’s sleeping now. Tristan will be by later, she said.” She shakes her head at my nudity, although her eye lingers on my cock and balls. “You crazy bear. Aren’t you freezing?”

“Nah.” I swing again, putting my relief that Trudy will be all right into my strike. “Let’s get back.”

“Am I getting another bear ride?”

“Meet me around front in twenty minutes.” I finish stacking a few more logs. Maybe my scent will be a warning to future prowlers. At the very least, it will agitate Tristan. That makes me grin. Serves that show-off right.

Judging from how strongly Tristan scented the area, he takes his courtship of the resident fox seriously. Trudy’s a fine girl, but Tristan doesn’t need to complicate his life any more than it is. He’s in Icy Cap for a reason.

Soon, Meg will be waiting for me. Having her straddle me in my bear form on the trip here was startling. I loped less gracefully than usual just to feel the squeeze of her knees against me and her fingers in my fur.

My cock is hard just thinking of her on top of me again. This is going nowhere good. I sprint off around the side of the house, letting my bear overtake me.

At the sea-ice edge, I scatter a flock of birds hunkered down from the storm. The sea air smells sharp and briny. Gusts of snow blow into my face. I breathe deeply. Wishing I had time for a swim, I turn around and race back for Meg.

The snow has fallen more thickly back by Trudy’s cabin. I shake my fur, flinging icy pellets against the building, rattling the windows. A curtain moves inside and then the door opens, carrying Meg and her scent with it.

As always, her aroma intoxicates me. She’s all bundled up, prolonged cold being lethal to vampires. Her body tenses as I move forward. I slow my approach and then stop, reining in my bear spirit. After a few moments, I lower my head again.

Gamely, she climbs on my back. Her gloved fingers dig into my fur, making me growl low in pleasure. What I wouldn’t give to feel her bare skin against mine. How could a vampire be my mate? It seems impossible that Meg is the one person closest to my heart. Yet she is. I know that deep within my bones. Somehow she is as much in my blood as my ice bear.

Having her legs around me brings images of her draped across me in my human form. I long to feel her skin against mine. I want to claim her because she is my mate. The need to be inside her and know her completely is nearly overwhelming.

But to give Meg the fuck of her life is a death sentence.

She stills, sensing my preoccupation. She tugs one ear, urging me to move.

I set off at a faster speed than before. The temperature has dropped during our visit with Trudy, and the wind has increased.

The crisp blowing snow is perfect for rolling through. Icy Cap is glorious. Even with an illicit trapper to catch, this far north is the only place I want to be. And when I catch that sick fuck, I’m hauling him out to the sea ice and ripping him apart.

Meg’s weight is like that of a flea on a dog. All of a sudden, though, a muffled cry catches my attention. Glancing over my shoulder, I see that Meg is no longer a passenger.

I stop, circling around in place. Then, holding my nose to the ground, I retrace my steps.

There.

Lying facedown in the snow.

I reach her in a half a dozen steps. I nudge her with my nose. Her body is colder than normal, her scent diminished.

My bear paws are for swimming and hunting. I have no fine motor skills in this form. Meanwhile, Meg is freezing.

I debate my options. I am halfway between Trudy’s and my cabin. Going for a snowmachine would take time. Either way, it wouldn’t really solve my problem of getting her home now.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Shifting leaves me sitting naked in a snowdrift next to Meg. As a shifter matures, changing forms becomes more difficult. Shifting again in such a short span of time makes my head ache like I’ve been on a vodka binge. I crawl to Meg and carefully roll her over.

Her eyes are closed. Her pale skin is bleached white. Even her normally berry-red lips have a bluish tinge. I check her pulse and find only a faint, irregular beat.

“Don’t die on me, you cranky vamp.” I kiss her cold lips, but there is no response. Sweeping her up into my arms for the second time that night, I run like hell.

Meg is a featherweight for my bear, but not so much for me in my human form. My body is working to keep warm, run, and carry her, which is leaving me winded. I stumble once, then twice, barely keeping us both from plowing headfirst into the snow. The snow is hip deep in places. Even following in my earlier tracks is tough. The wind drifts fresh snow over my steps.

Tightening my hold on Meg, I press forward, running till I’m dizzy, then panting for a few steps, then running again. Finally I stumble back onto my property. I blink at my cabin, fearing I’m dreaming.

Tristan is still here. I sense him.

I call out to him, but the wind washes my voice away in its howl. I slow. With my arms stiff with cold, it’s difficult to hold onto Meg. My body isn’t responding to my directions. Did I only a short time ago relish the wild elements? Ironic, since they are now going to kill me and Meg is probably already dead.

“Ash! Ash!” Tristan hurries out of the blizzard, brandishing a lantern.

“Take her,” I say through numb lips.

Tristan gathers Meg into his arms, then hurries back into the cabin.

That selfish bastard
. My mind works slowly.
Has he wanted her to himself all along?

Then Tristan is back, pulling me to my feet. He throws my arm around his shoulder. “What are you doing, running around naked? Is Trudy OK?”

My lips work enough to produce “Trudy fine.” I lean on him all the way into the cabin. He continues half carrying me to the fireplace, where Meg is lying stretched out on the woven rugs with two blankets piled on her.

Tristan throws a blanket on me. Then he goes to my bedroom and returns, dragging all the blankets from the bed.

After every blanket is on Meg, he motions for me to lie down too. “I’m gonna get you something that’ll help more.”

Stiffly, I lie down next to Meg. I am warming up enough that I can feel the blankets against my bare skin.

“Drink this.” Tristan hands me a cup. I sip and feel the burn of the whisky sliding down my throat. My insides start to hum to life.

He props up Meg, tilting her head back to give her a sip. A few drops of the whisky disappear before she erupts into a cough.

Thank God she isn’t dead.
Please don’t die. Please don’t die.

“Have a bit more,” Tristan coaches, tipping the cup up. But Meg’s hand shoots out, slapping it away. The liquid sprays across the air before some of it falls, hissing, into the fireplace.

“Give me blood,” she croaks.

My cousin’s eyebrows rise. He looks at me.

“It’s in the fridge,” I say.

Synthetic human blood is available for vampires to purchase. Especially for physician vampires, it is their dietary staple. The synthetic stuff is half as potent as true human blood.

“Bring two!” I call.

He returns with two packets. Opening one, he seems partly fascinated and partly shy. “Should I warm it up? Put in a cup?”

“Pour.” Meg opens her mouth like a bird.

“I’ll do it.” I’ve warmed up enough to move now. I gather Meg in my lap, tipping the packet at one corner. Her dark eyes meet mine as I support her head against my shoulder.

Tristan rearranges the blankets around me. “I need to get back to Trudy. We’ll talk later, Ash.”

I nod. “Thanks.”

Within seconds, the front door closes.

Returning my focus to Meg, I relish the opportunity to be close to her. Making her face death wasn’t what I had in mind.

“Why do you have to be so stubborn?” I tip the rest of the packet into her mouth as she drains it. Her red tongue licks her lower lip, savoring the taste. Since she is still cold in my arms, I open the other blood packet.

She drinks steadily. I can feel her wet outer layers against my skin. Her fall in the snow has dropped her body temperature. As she drinks, I listen to the crackle and hiss of the fireplace. Small bits of cinder fly up the chimney.

“Better,” she says at last. A hint of pink brushes her cheeks.

I pull off her gloves, and her hands are ice cold.

“You’re never going to warm up like this. You’ve gotta get out of the wet clothes.”

She looks at my naked body. “Forget it. I’m half frozen as it is.”

“My shifter body is much more efficient at generating heat than your clothes.”

“All right.” Meg’s voice shakes. “But the socks stay on.”