Page 2 of Bear It All (Bears in Love Duet Book 2)

With a cardboard cup of steaming, shitty, in-room coffee in one hand, Mallory Arkto used the other hand to rub at her bleary eyes before taking that first highly unsatisfying sip.

She should have gone down to the lobby for a cupful of much higher quality coffee. Except she wasn’t ready to interact with people just yet. Even for a decent tasting caffeinated beverage.

Grimacing, she took another sip and stared out the window overlooking the industrial side of downtown Duluth. She never expected to come back to this part of the world again, and that edgy sensation she’d had pretty much since meeting Remy four years ago was only getting worse.

Remy.

Closing her eyes, her mind’s eye—or, more accurately, her bear—instantly pulled up an image of the rugged, tanned, sandy-haired, muscle-bound Southern man. She’d pleasured herself countless times over the last four years to that image.

Probably because she knew firsthand just how spectacular he was in bed.

They’d shared a hotel in Detroit for a single afternoon, where they’d mostly slept, courtesy of the harrowing experiences of the prior days. But after a few hours, in those moments between sound sleep and full waking, they’d touched, gently, hesitantly at first.

Like a spark catching on a dried chunk of kindling, a fire had consumed them. They’d made love, and she’d fallen so far, so fast into him, she’d had no choice but to bolt the moment they surfaced from drowsy, post-coital bliss.

She hadn’t been ready, not for what Remy had been offering. Even now, after almost four long years of constantly wondering if she should have taken a chance, the idea still sent her heart stuttering in her chest.

Just when she began to think she’d never be ready for a real relationship, her bear had abruptly knocked around on the inside of her head and told her she was an idiot.

Do something about it, her bear had insisted. Do what you need to do to get your life back.

The damned bear hadn’t provided any sort of ideas as to what “do what you need to do” might entail.

Yes, she’d considered going to Louisiana, looking up Remy, see if he was still as interested as he’d been four years ago. But she hesitated. Was losing herself in a man really what her bear meant by “get your life back”?

Didn’t seem likely.

The only other thing she could possibly imagine significant enough to “get your life back” was exactly the last thing she ever wanted to do.

Go back to her pack.

Somehow, despite her hesitation, her very real fear, she was here in a hotel room in Duluth. It would take only thirty minutes by car to get to pack land. Such a short distance, considering most shifters tended to keep their distance from humans, even though most humans didn’t know they existed. But, like pretty much all of Minnesota—with the exception of Minneapolis—once you were outside the city limits, you were immediately surrounded by nature and more nature. And of course there were bears out in all that wilderness.

This coffee wasn’t getting any better, and neither was the churning in her gut. “Let’s go, Mallory. Shower, breakfast, more caffeine, and then let’s figure out how we can get our life back.”

Her bear gave a roar of approval in her head. With a sigh, she headed for the bathroom, and less than an hour later, she was packed up and stalking down the hall toward the lobby, dragging her roller bag behind her.

She stalled a little longer, sitting in the hotel’s restaurant, pushing around the scrambled eggs on her plate while plying herself with coffee.

Finally, the lobby restaurant had cleared out and the staff was cleaning up around her, so she took the hint, paid her bill, and left.

The drive was uneventful. Pretty much a straight shot out of town then a cruise through the rural, mostly frozen countryside. The closer she drew to the lake, the more frequently she passed signs of human life: gas stations, boat storage, directions to the boat launch.

While humans had populated the south side of the lake, the pack lived on the north side. It was private property, and the guards at the checkpoints surrounding pack land were aggressive as all get-out, so humans had learned to stay away.

There were only two narrow dirt roads in and out, which, of course, was on purpose, another ploy to keep humans away. She was coming up on one of those security checkpoints, would have to make her presence known to whoever was on guard duty.

If she stayed in her vehicle.

If, however, she shifted into her bear and made her way cross-country, there was a good chance she could get pretty damn close before anyone noticed her.

It was the humans they wanted to deter, not other bears.

She hadn’t left under the most desirable circumstances. She had no idea if the pack leader or his brother had mentioned the inciting incident—leaving out their own guilt, of course—to anyone else in the pack. She had no idea if they’d tried to track her down or if there was a directive that she not ever be allowed back on pack land.

She had no idea what she was walking into.

Hell, she wasn’t even sure what she was going to say or do when she confronted her pack leader.

More than fifteen years ago, his brother had molested her when she was still too young to have any real experience with the opposite sex.

Experience aside, she was a big fan of no means no.

She’d gone to the pack leader, told him what happened, and his brother gave her a wide berth after that.

Fast-forward to four years ago, and out of the blue, the brother started hitting on her, as if, now that she was an adult, she’d suddenly develop an interest in the man who had taken liberties without her permission when she’d been far too young.

She shut him down. He wasn’t pleased. And then one night, the pack leader and his brother showed up at her door, so drunk they were swaying on their feet, and the brother insisted he had a right to take what was his.

And the fucking pack leader was going to give her to him. Like she was some kind of reward for a job well done.

That was the night she’d kicked the brother in the balls and punched the pack leader and took off without a backward glance.

Pulling the car over into a clearing on the side of the narrow road, she shoved the key fob under the mat and grabbed her small leather backpack, which had straps long enough to loop around her neck when she was in bear form. Convenient, since she had to strip naked in order to shift and would need clothing again whenever it was time to return to her human form.

Swinging the pack over her shoulder, she headed into the undergrowth. She’d shift eventually, but first, she wanted to make sure the chances of anyone stumbling upon her were as small as possible.

And maybe she just wanted to take a stroll through the woods. Because, yeah, despite how things had gone down, her reasons for leaving her pack, she did have a handful of positive memories tied to this place.

The area was currently stark and brown, the tree branches leafless, the ground still frozen, with plenty of snow covering the sodden, dead leaves that had dropped last fall. And yet there was beauty here.

Clusters of drooping white flowers, appropriately called snowdrops, and the pointed leaves of purple hyacinth pushing through the snow were determined to bloom despite the chill. The sun was out. Puffy white clouds drifted lazily across an azure sky, lending the impression that it was much nicer, much warmer than it really was.

Since it was March and Mallory had lived in the northern US for her entire life, she knew damn well they’d get more snow, more cold, probably ice, too, before spring finally won the battle and eased them into summer.

A summer that was always too short. She’d never been to Louisiana, but she knew it was far enough south that they did not have to deal with cold as hell winter and volatile springs each year.

She’d like to experience a snowless winter.

Especially if Remy came with the deal.

Rolling her shoulders, she pushed those thoughts away. First, figure out how to do what she needed to do to get her life back.

Then take the time to struggle with whether to reach out to Remy. One stressor at a time, please and thank you.

The crack of a branch made her fling around, scan her surroundings, her heart rate flittering like a damn hummingbird. Memories of hanging out in the UP, just being a bear bombarded her. Of being shot with a tranquilizer, of being carted down to Detroit and tossed into a cage.

But the people behind those kidnappings were either in prison or dead. Whoever was out here was not tied to what happened in Detroit four years ago.

But someone was out here.

She considered shifting, except realistically, whoever it was, they were from her pack, and they’d recognize her whether she was in human or bear form.

So she waited, standing still, her gaze bouncing along the uneven terrain, taking in all the details, watching for movement beyond the gentle swaying of the treetops in the breeze.

Finally, someone stepped out from behind a vast tree trunk only a few dozen feet away. He wore a puffy, down coat, a maroon wool beanie covering most of his sandy, shaggy hair. Jeans wrapped around his muscular legs, hiking boots on his feet. She could see his pale blue eyes even from this distance.

Remy? No, it couldn’t be. He’d gone back to Louisiana, and he had no reason to be here, on her pack’s land in northern Minnesota. She hadn’t even told him her pack’s precise location, only that she never intended to come back here.

And yet?—

“Well, this is unexpected.”

That silver-tongued Southern drawl was unmistakable.

It was Remy.