The Island Of Bears: A BBW Paranormal Romance

THE ISLAND OF

BEARS

A PARANORMAL SHIFTER ROMANCE

AMIRA RAIN

Copyright
©2015 by  Amira Rain

All rights reserved.

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About This Book

When curvy Haley stumbles through a portal onto a supernatural island she is dazed and confused. She thinks it is all a dream.

But this is definitely all very
REAL.

A young, hunky bear shifter named Holden takes her under his wing and reassures her that she will be OK.

Haley is scared and desperately wants to get back to her home in New York City but Holden is desperate for her to stay and he is willing to do what it takes to convince her to stay.

Several nights of passion later and Haley is beginning to change her mind about her new surroundings. But it soon becomes apparent it is not just Holden who needs her, the
ISLAND
needs her too and she has some important work to do...

                                           
CHAPTER ONE

C
HAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER ONE

It was about halfway through our tour of the Ellis Island Immigration Museum that I began to feel a desperate need to take a break from Gary, my ill-mannered and annoying date. And really, I felt less like taking a “break” from him and more like running away, screaming, from him. Then, shortly after I’d developed this desperate feeling, he made a comment that sent me over the edge.

“Oh, Haley, one other thing. When I was telling you about all my new furniture earlier, I forgot to tell you about the best item, which would be my brand-new, pillow-top, California king-sized bed. After two nights of sleeping in it, I can say with confidence that it’s the most comfortable bed in the world. Though, maybe I should have let the comfort of my new bed be a surprise for you this evening.”

Gary fixed me with a sly look and actually gave me a little wink.

Incredulous, I stared at him for a long moment before responding. “And what exactly makes you think that I’ll be joining you in your bed this evening?”

While the museum tour guide spoke in a monotone, explaining something to the group who were  now a little ways ahead of Gary and me, Gary searched my face, frowning.

“Well... Well, I bought you lunch. Then, I paid for your ferry ticket, took you here to the island, and took you on this museum tour. Then, when we head back on the ferry and return to the city, I expect I’ll be buying you dinner, too. So, is it such a stretch to assume that you might repay me by sharing my bed tonight? Honestly, for a first date as extravagant as this one that I planned for you today, it seems like you should be a bit more eager to express your thanks.”

I snorted, even more incredulous than I had been earlier. “So, let me get this straight. Because you bought me lunch and a ferry ticket, I’m just expected to hop right into bed with you to express my gratitude? As if I automatically owe you sex in exchange for you buying me a meal and a ticket?”

Frowning so hard his gingery brows were nearly touching, Gary sputtered and stammered for a few moments. “Well... Well, yes. Lunch at that new Italian place wasn’t cheap, you know. And, of course, you had to order just about the most expensive thing on the menu.”

That wasn’t even remotely true, not that it should matter if it was. I’d ordered a half-entree portion of chicken Parmesan, which had cost a whopping twelve dollars, making it just about the least expensive lunch possible in Manhattan, except for maybe a hot dog from a street vendor.  I not only ordered a pretty economical lunch, I insisted on leaving the tip for our waitress, too. I left her a twenty-dollar bill on a thirty-dollar tab; just to make up for Gary rudely snapping his fingers at her near the end of the meal, to get her attention.

I didn’t want to argue with Gary anymore. I just wanted a breather from him, his piggish behavior, and our ill-fated date.

In response to what he’d said about me supposedly ordering the most expensive thing on the menu, I simply took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I need to get some fresh air. I’m going outside for a stroll. Please don’t follow me.”

With that, I turned on my heel and began stalking away from Gary and our tour group. Gary didn’t follow me.

He hadn’t seemed like such a jerk when I met him at a coffee shop near my building a week or so earlier. In fact, he’d struck me as a nice, friendly guy. We ran into each other again after that and had coffee and breakfast together, getting to know each other a bit.

Gary was a corporate law attorney who worked sixty hours a week, and I’d been impressed by his work ethic and determination to succeed in his career. When I’d mentioned wanting to visit Ellis Island, immediately prompting Gary to suggest we make a date of it, I’d been thrilled. Now, obviously, his true nature was coming out.

I knew visiting the island was kind of a touristy thing for someone living in the city to want to do, but then again, I still felt like a tourist. I had only been living in New York City for three months after having moved from Indianapolis.

So far, things had not been going well. The only apartment I’d been able to find in my price range was just about the size of a shoebox; many of my neighbors were unfriendly, noisy, and rude.  Despite extensive job searching, I hadn’t been able to find secretarial work yet and had to rely on my savings to pay bills, causing them to quickly dwindle.

Also, I had not been able to make any close friends, and my dating life had been nonexistent. At least, it had been until I’d met Gary, anyway, which I was now wishing I hadn’t.

I moved from Indianapolis to New York, following the deaths of my parents a year or so earlier, simply because I wanted to make a major life change. I wanted a change of scenery, a change of work, life, and a change of city. Just a change of everything. A chance to escape painful memories, too.

Though I’d attended only one semester of college and had done secretarial work the entire ten years since I’d graduated high school, I hoped for an eventual change in occupation. I’d always dabbled in jewelry design, making pieces for my friends and myself and I wanted to someday make a business of it, and I thought New York City was the place to do it.

However, I realized a new business likely wouldn’t be profitable right away, and if I couldn’t find employment soon, I wouldn’t be able to stay in the city long enough to make a go of it. I’d have to move somewhere less expensive, but I wouldn’t go back to Indianapolis.

For one, I didn’t want to take a step back, and two, the winters were too cold, which I hated. But, I had to concede, so were the winters in New York. Maybe I’d move to Florida, I figured, where with any luck, I might be able to find a man of better quality than Gary to share my life and my bed with.

I strode through the museum’s long, cavernous Great Hall, passing exhibits and paintings on either side of me, just wanting to get out and into the late May sunshine. I planned to walk around the grounds of the building, look at the greenery and flowers, and maybe even call a friend from back home in Indianapolis, just to vent, while I did so.

However, once outside, I realized that both of my best friends from Indianapolis were still on a cruise with a group of other friends, and they probably wouldn’t be reachable by cellphone. If I was going to vent, I’d have to do it to myself in my head, which would, of course, be just a bit less satisfying.

Yet, almost immediately, I didn’t even want to let off steam anymore. I was too entranced by the natural beauty of the island—the towering green-leaved trees and the sparkling water of Upper New York Bay in the distance. It was all simply breathtaking, and I soon became somewhat lost in it. I’d always had a soft spot for nature, had always longed for it, actually. I’d lived in a city environment since birth.

I strolled around the museum, admiring the trees and contemplating the lives of all the many immigrants who’d come through the island in hopes of something better. Gary and his disappointing behavior completely forgotten, I even became a little misty-eyed thinking about all the immigrants who’d set out on the overseas voyage, who’d
tried
for something better, had
hoped
for it, but hadn’t made it. The thought caused a literal ache in my heart.

Deep in my musings, I walked for I didn’t even know how long, letting the bright spring sunshine dry my misty eyes and warm my skin. The day was so sunny and warm, in fact, that before long, I took off the thin cardigan I’d been wearing over my pale yellow sundress and tied it around my waist, not needing it at all anymore.

Eventually, I wandered away from the building in search of the Wall of Honor, where thousands of immigrants’ family names were recorded. I was pretty sure the wall was somewhere near the front of the museum, where we’d entered, but I’d taken a side exit out, and now I was a bit turned around. I also realized I’d somehow gotten very far away from the building as well. It was kind of behind me now, or in front of me, depending on which way I was facing and how a person looked at it. But either way, I was a good distance away from it, surrounded by a thick copse of trees.

I wasn’t sure, but I thought I could hear the sound of rushing water at the tidal flats in the distance, and now that I was already pretty far from the museum, I debated whether or not I should just keep going and try to have a look at the flats before heading back to make the ferry in time. I ultimately decided against this, though, knowing that the park rangers in charge of the island were likely out and about, and people really weren’t supposed to venture far from the museum at all. I didn’t want to be detained by a ranger or get a ticket or anything. That would just be the topper on my terrible afternoon date.

So, I turned and began heading out of the thick trees, intending to return to the building, but before I got very far at all, something caught my attention and I stopped. At first, I thought the thing I was looking at was a very old stone birdbath covered by overgrowth and vines. But, upon closer inspection, I could see that this piece of masonry was far too ornate to be a birdbath; it was some sort of a fountain, though a small one, not much taller than waist height.

After clearing away some of the leaves and vines covering it, I ran a hand over the delicately carved, pale gray stonework. The basin was smooth, and the edges scalloped and decorated with what appeared to be pure gold filigree. A hole in the middle of the basin, where I assumed water used to flow through, was stuffed with a bunch of tiny green leaves and twigs that the wind had probably blown in. I began scooping this debris out, wondering if the fountain was still operational, and if so, also wondering if there was some lever or button to push that might make the water flow again. I imagined on such a sunny day, mist from the fountain might make rainbows, and I wanted to see the beautiful sight against the backdrop of the pale gray stone basin and the jewel-green trees surrounding it.

Maybe I would pull my phone out of my cross-strap purse and take pictures, then ask one of the tour guides inside the museum if they knew about the origins of the fountain. The location of it, far from the museum, deep within a tight cluster of tall trees,
did
seem somewhat odd, and I was curious as to why it had been placed there.

I’d just unclogged the hole in the bottom of the fountain’s basin and let the handful of leaves and twigs fall to the ground when a strange thing happened. Almost instantly, crystal clear, sparkling water began gurgling up from the basin in a several-foot-high jet. A light breeze carried mist away from the water, making gorgeous rainbows that shimmered in the sun.

Quietly laughing with delight, I reached a hand out and danced a few fingers in the jet of sparkling, cool water. “Amazing.”

That was the last thing I remembered before everything suddenly went black.

*

I had no idea how long I’d been out. I did not even know what had happened. When I came around, I was on my back on the ground, looking up at the deep green trees above me. Dazed and struggling to keep my eyes open, I watched the breeze flutter their leaves, the gentle action making a soft sound like a whisper.

I really did not have a clue what had happened. I couldn’t comprehend it. I didn’t even have any ideas.

I remembered my terrible afternoon date to Ellis Island, Gary being a pig, and me leaving the museum to get some air and get away from him. I remembered walking around the grounds, wandering farther away from the museum than I’d intended to, and presently discovering the fountain. I remembered laughing with delight when water had gurgled up and out of the fountain, and I remembered running a few fingers through the sparkling jet of water. But that was it. After that, it was all a blank. Everything had simply, and suddenly, gone dark.

While I continued looking up at the trees, still on my back, with my fuzzy, slow brain beginning to function just slightly faster, I realized I had to have passed out. I just didn’t know
why
I would have done that. I didn’t have any health conditions or ailments, and I’d never fainted before in my life. I’d felt woozy and dizzy before at different times, for different reasons, but I’d never just hit the ground in a full-tilt blackout.

Straining my ears, I could hear that the sound of the rushing water near the tidal flats of the island was louder now than it had been before. In fact, now the noise sounded like the crashing of ocean waves. I wasn’t sure why this would be, or why I was hearing what sounded like the distant shrieks and calls of tropical birds. Parrots maybe. But I was absolutely certain there were no parrots on Ellis Island. They wouldn’t survive the winters. They definitely weren’t native.

Miles beyond confused and bewildered, I remained on my back for a while, just looking up at the trees, attempting to make sense of things and trying to recall what exactly had happened when I’d put my hand in the water gushing out of the fountain. Trying to recall what had made me pass out cold.  I still couldn’t remember what, if anything, had happened just before that. It seemed as if I’d just stuck my fingers in the jet of water, then everything had almost immediately gone black. I really couldn’t wrap my mind around this.

I supposed that a few different things were at least possible. I might have taken some sort of a funny step around the fountain, then lost my balance and fell. I might have hit my head on the fountain and just didn’t remember it. Another possible scenario was that I’d had some sort of a medical event, suddenly becoming ill, and had fainted dead away because of it. However, being that I was a perfectly healthy young woman and had no history of sudden fainting spells, this just didn’t seem likely. Tripping and hitting my head on the fountain didn’t seem likely, either, because my head didn’t hurt at all, and it seemed like a knock to the head hard enough to make someone black out would leave a very painful knot somewhere, or at least cause an extreme headache.