Bear Bride (Bear Cove #1)(8)
As the last of the guests were taking their seats and pulling their own bear skins over their heads, Troy’s mind wandered off into the past to the moment when he first laid his eyes on Keyla. Or rather felt her presence. One evening, a few weeks before graduation, he had sneaked into the library late enough to avoid the rush (not that reading was among Bear Cove’s residents’ favorite pastimes). He was on his way to the local history section, which was of particular interest to him, with the intention to peruse some old maps, hoping to find some bits of the long forgotten history of his clan, when the scent first struck him. It wasn’t the artificial chemical smell of most girls he encountered in town, waves upon waves of synthetic aromas plastered in layers over their skins in the forms of lotions and bath products and body sprays. No. This was a singular scent that was at the same time dewy and fresh like the morning mists in the mountain and spicy like vanilla, cinnamon and thyme, natural and crisp, tender to his sensitive nostrils, delicately veiled over the clean, musky undertones of a woman’s skin.
This singular scent had been so powerful, so overwhelming that he hadn’t been able to resist stepping out of his path and, abandoning his mission altogether, sneaking in behind a bookcase to see where it came from. It had beckoned him, dragged him forward alongside the neat rows of shelved books towards the reading lounge, where he had pulled out a lengthy tome, peeking through the narrow opening among the book spines to get a look at the source of this magical fragrance.
He had spotted her, sitting alone at a desk, huddled over a book, bathed in the pool of light coming from a reading lamp set in front of her. She had seemed completely engrossed in the thick book that had been splayed open before her, her forehead resting in one of her palms, while the fingers of her other hand had been set on the page corner, impatient to turn it over. His nose had not deceived him and the young woman sitting in front of him had appeared like a dream, the dark waves of her hair draping the soft, smooth features of her face, gleaming under the golden light. Her long, black eyelashes had shielded her eyes and fluttered with excitement as she read along, and he had longed for her to raise her gaze and meet his. The girl’s luscious lips had been partly open, like those of a child in awe, and he had known instantly that he needed to know her.
He had stayed hidden in the dark corners of the library, intently listening to the rustling sound of her clothes as she had shifted in her seat, to the pages flipping one after the other, to her breath getting caught with the tension in the her book unfolding. Waiting a few hours for the library to close had felt like nothing to him. After all, he had spent his whole life waiting, and being the excellent hunter he was, he had already started tasting the pleasure of getting closer to his aim. The moment she had reluctantly stood up to leave and carefully shelved her book in the historical romance section, he had leapt forward and in a few long strides, had found himself in front of the tucked in volume, pulling it out and bringing it to his nose to hold on to her scent for a few more moments before it had evaporated from the dusty, yellowed pages of the book.
He had had the idea then. He had started reading the book, trying to find what had appealed to her, and then had asked the librarian to recommend the closest titles that matched the premise. If she was a passionate reader, they already had something in common and he had found the perfect reason to talk to her.
Even when the man in him had been only fascinated by the beauty and serenity of the mysterious woman he had spotted, there had been no doubts in his bear when it came to her inner value. The animal instinct was much stronger than that of a man, the intuition, the primal knowledge and recognition of a mate. His mate. On his lonely, furtive walks along back alleys and shadowy archways, tracing Keyla’s steps and seeing her safely home after school or the library, Troy’s bear had grown more and more certain that he would never feel the same pull towards any other woman or bear. His fate had finally caught up with him.
Presently, Troy became distracted, agitated. Something wasn’t right. He looked up at his mother and his soon-to-be mother-in-law and saw they had already closed their eyes in preparation for the ritual. The alpha of the Blackstones, Corin’s father, had already settled in the makeshift wooden throne at the base of the arch, his massive chest bare underneath the grizzly bear skin he was wearing. In his current attire, he could safely pass for a bear altogether. The people on the benches were finally quieting down and Aria and Elaine began the chant.
Two girls dressed in emerald robes came forward with their hands outstretched towards the two mothers. One of them placed a large lacquered wooden bowl with a pestle at their feet, while the other arranged the contents of a basket on a piece of white linen next to it. Glass vials and silk pouches held an assortment of wild herbs, dry berries and tree barks and as Aria kneeled down to empty them into the bowl, a cloud of potent scent rose from its surface. The smell intensified when she started vigorously stirring and crushing the ingredients with the wooden pestle. All the while the mothers kept humming a rhythmic chant that was complementing the effects of the fragrant herbs and tickled the senses of everyone present, especially of those closest to the arch.
The bowl now held a dark maroon powder and Elaine joined Aria on her knees, bringing out a vial of clear liquid from a hidden pocket in her skirts. She poured it into the mixture and took over the pestle to stir it in until the ritual dye was finally complete and they could proceed with the wedding. The two mothers rose to their feet, Aria holding the bowl, while Elaine dipped her finger into the thick paint and brought it out to Corin’s forehead. The crowd rose and joined in the chanting, while Elaine traced the ancient binding symbols over her daughter-in-law’s tender skin.