Wounds to Bear (Heart of The Bear #1)(3)

“I’m going to bandage your shoulder, so you don’t bleed all over my newly clean house while you’re healing, then I’m getting you something to eat.”

He lifted his head. “You—cook?”

“Quite well, thank you. I started a beef stew this morning that should be about ready.”

He groaned. “Hurry.”

Jenna did, aware of the cooling air, and the heat pouring off the man beside her. She finished bandaging him, then eased back, his cock sliding across her shivering leg. Good God, he was so hot. Her body clenched in reaction.

Down, girl. He’s not for you.

She moved to his left side and wrapped her arm around his waist, admiring the ridged muscle of his abs as he draped his right arm over her shoulders.

“Ready?” He nodded, his muscles tensing. “On three—one, two, three.”

Jenna held on as he stood, his sweat soaking into her shirt. He straightened, taller than she expected. At five four, she barely reached his shoulder.

They moved to the door, and he managed to walk on his own, but Jenna felt him shake against her with every step. She got him as far as the living room before his legs gave out.

“Whoa—I’ve got you.” She lowered him to the worn couch, grabbed the blanket off the back and laid it over him, covering the muscular, well-defined legs, and the long, thick shaft she could still feel on her inner thigh. It was even more rigid, tenting the blanket.

“Roman.” He opened his eyes, the amber depths blurred with pain. “I want you to stay here. I’m going to get you some water, and a couple pain killers.”

“No—”

“They won’t make you drowsy, just cut the pain you’re putting yourself through.” He stared at her for endless seconds, then nodded, once, that pain flashing across his lean, angular face. His short brown hair was streaked with sweat. “Stay put, and I’ll reward you with a big bowl of stew.”

That almost got a smile out of him.

“Yes, Doc.”

She headed into her bedroom, and leaned against the wall, where he couldn’t see her, shaking so badly she could hardly stand up.

A wounded man, kidnapped children—and cubs, he’d called them. Shifter kids?

“Pull it together, Jen,” she whispered. After a few deep breaths, she pushed off the wall and yanked off her disgusting t-shirt, her sweaty bra. No bath for her, but at least she could wear something cleaner. She used the hem of the t-shirt to dry off the sweat, then dug a support cami out of the pile of clothes on her bed and slipped it on. If she was going to deal with a grumpy, injured man, she wanted to be comfortable. She slipped a long sleeved shirt over it, and rolled up the sleeves. When the sun set, she’d be glad to have the extra coverage.

She yanked her wild, curling hair out of the ponytail and wrapped the waist length in a bun at the nape of her neck, then smoothed the loose trousers she always wore for physical work over her hips.

“Clothes,” she muttered. “He definitely needs clothes.” She wouldn’t be able to do more than stare at those broad muscles shoulders and chiseled chest if they weren’t covered. Never mind the impressive cock she got more than one tantalizing glimpse of.


She moved to the small pile of Darrel’s clothes she had found when she was packing. He was about Roman’s size, but he had been less muscle and more bulk.

She picked out the least offensive shirt, a black and grey plaid, and a pair of worn jeans. Roman would have to go without underwear—Darrel had worn the most hideous, patterned tight underwear she’d ever seen. She threw out what he did leave behind, as a favor to everyone.

“You can do this—you can help him dress without drooling all over him.” She took another deep breath before she went out and faced a naked, deadly gorgeous man—who also happened to shift into a bear.

God help her—what had she gotten herself into?





Two





Corey Black was terrified. So terrified he almost shifted.

But he managed to keep it together. He had to—as the oldest in the group, it was his job to protect the younger kids. At almost thirteen, he could do it, keep himself between the others and the man who shot Uncle Roman.

He shoved down the need to cry over that. Uncle Roman was too strong not survive—he’d go to Dad and the rest of Corey’s family and find them, probably before it even got dark.

“Shut up, you sniveling brat.” The man’s angry voice jerked Corey out of his thoughts. He was yelling at Faith, Corey’s cousin. She’d never done a thing to make anyone mad—

“Leave her alone!” Corey stepped in front of her, fear clawing at him. The man had a gun, and he’d already proved he’d use it. “She’s scared. Yelling at her won’t help.”

The man crossed his arms, pointing the gun the other way, and Corey’s heart stopped trying to burst out of his chest. “Who are you, little man?” It was the first time he’d asked for a name.

“Corey. What—what do you want with us?”

“Now there’s the question I was waiting for.” He moved so fast Corey didn’t have time to escape the hand that caught the front of his shirt. His free hand held the small but nasty looking gun, aimed at Corey’s face. The younger kids behind him screamed, or started crying. Corey reached his hand back, and felt them crowd against him. “You’re the bait, my little shifter, for a much bigger shifter.”