Hearten (Bayou Bear Chronicles) Read online

  Then we would’ve run together as mated bears, enjoying the bond only our animals could embrace.

  I watched each drip of the coffee pot, hoping it would lull me into a state of appreciation.

  Instead of an ungrateful female.

  I knew he was my mate. I’d known it for months. His scent was something born of the earth. He smelled like pine and dew in the morning. His bear called to mine and mine to his in a desperation I’d never known.

  When our eyes met, my soul flooded with awareness of him—everything in him was telling Rev to reach out to me—to solidify what we knew to be true with just one touch. Inside, my animal side was withdrawn and defeated. She’d had the same fantasies I had—and with good cause—I’d given them to her—forced them on her.

  Rev was perfect in his ruggedness. I’d only seen the man with shoes on a handful of times. Echo often joked about him, calling him the caveman when he showed up to meetings and dinners without shoes and sometimes without a shirt. Once Hawke swore that they’d gone to town for dinner but ended up having to grab something from a drive-thru because halfway to the place Rev realized he forgot footwear.

  Too bad he’d remembered all the appropriate attire tonight. I could’ve dealt with his wobbly ways if he was shirtless.

  I hadn’t realized how tall he was in comparison to me until he caught me mid stride. Rev easily had a foot on me. When he pulled me against his large frame, my forehead barely came up to his chest.

  Kissing would be awkward.

  Kissing would be fantastic.

  I rolled my eyes, remembering that the two of us could barely hold a continuous conversation about blankets and coffee and I was thinking about kissing.

  The coffee stopped dripping into the pot. I inhaled the scent of the rich liquid but it was muddled by the scent of Rev, who was watching me from the door to the kitchen. For months I’d wanted his eyes on me and now that they were, I couldn’t bring myself to meet his stare.

  He was incredibly nervous—and frustrated. I felt it tornado through him and it felt like nausea. He wasn’t a usually timid man. That’s what Hawke and Echo had always said about him. He was just one of these guys that only spoke when they had something worthy to bring to the table.

  Maybe there was nothing to say to me.

  I didn’t warrant anything worthy to say.

  This was a mistake. A mistake had been made in this coupling.

  No, the Creator didn’t make mistakes.

  He just didn’t.

  I wished Rev would just say something—anything.

  “I don’t even know how you take your coffee.”

  That’s what he chose to say.

  “I don’t.” I mustered my sweetest smile despite the protest from my insides. “I take sugar and cream with a little coffee in it.”

  Broad, full lips tugged the tiniest bit at the corner, threatening to give me a mimicked smile. It didn’t last long. Before I knew it, he was stalking towards me and my mind again rekindled the daydreams I’d had about being someone’s mate and all that it meant.

  “Cups,” he questioned from behind me. His breath, hot and heavy, ghosted along the rim of my ear causing a shudder to ripple through me. The only anchor I could find was my hand on the edge of the kitchen counter, and my knuckles went white with the weight I counted on them to balance. I pointed to the counter in front of me with a shaky finger.

  We shouldn’t be talking about cups and coffee. We should be huddled on the couch, reveling in the sound of the rain and thunder around us and the electricity inside us.

  I should be planning my mating gift—no, I was jumping too far ahead.

  Love didn’t come immediately with the mating claim—only the promise of love.

  I ticked my gaze to the couch where, in my thoughts, we should be. I should be giggling at his jokes about having a hard time waiting until the mating rights were completed and blushing at his forwardness.

  Instead, I was making small talk about the layout of the dishes in my kitchen.

  I’m rushing things—love isn’t instant.

  My breath hitched as his arm snaked across my shoulder to open the cup holding cabinet. Even his arm smelled like Pine and Oak—treeish. What did he do, climb trees in his spare time?

  “May I?” His hip gently bumped me out of the way as he filled two cups, one significantly less than the other. “For your cream and sugar,” he said and then winked at me.

  Winked.

  Pfft.

  Now we were getting somewhere.

  Come on innuendos and mating talk.

  He put nothing in his coffee and I unabashedly scoffed at the crassness of such a thing—black coffee—I would rather drink motor oil.

  “Gross.” I commented and was met with an unemotional shrug.

  I looked longingly at my cake display, vacant of my usual fare. Of course, I’d picked today of all days not to bake or cook anything. We’d gone went to a party after all where food was served.

  He probably thought I was some slob who didn’t cook or bake like a good Suzie homemaker.

  At least that was the image I tried to portray.

  Everything was ruined.

  “What’s going on in there? You’re all over the place.” He pressed two fingers to the top of my chest. Heat blazed from where his fingers met my skin and extended all the way up my neck.

  “Huh?”

  Real eloquent, author.

  “What are you scared of? I know people don’t like me, but I thought you—never mind.”

  “It’s not you.” I replied, reaching out to touch him, covering the hand that had just dropped from my chest. My bear demanded that I touch him—even the slightest of touches would’ve quelled her command. His hands were warm, way warmer than mine and the sensation of my hand wrapped in his sent that warmth throughout me, causing me to shiver in need for more. “It’s just nervousness, not fear. I’m not scared of you.” I tried to dig my point in a little deeper with a squeeze of his hand. Rev looked down between us as if he hadn’t noticed we were holding hands and used the connection to drag me closer.

  “Don’t ever be scared of me. They look at me like I’m a rogue bear who has been in the wild too long. I can take it from anyone but you.”

  “You don’t even know me,” I shrunk back, my human side boring down on my bear, forcing her to be quiet for once.

  “It doesn’t matter. I have a lifetime to get to know you. What matters is—you’re my mate—made by the Creator just for me. All the rest is just details.”

  When he said the word mate, I swore his voice dropped a few octaves. Tingles ruptured through me when he said it, like the word held so much more weight when he said it.

  And damn those lips.

  His lips were full and pouted—and they called to me.

  Now knowing what to do with myself, I gestured towards the living room, bound and determined to get to know my mate as much as I could in one night. He splayed his large hand across the small of my back and my knees buckled for the second time that night. Quickly righting myself, I didn’t check to see if he’d noticed. I knew he had from the sharp intake of breath I heard from him at my side. But instead of laughing or asking me if I needed help, he simply kept pace with me like nothing had ever happened.

  He could’ve caught me and…oh shut up.

  “I don’t even know your full name.” I had to prompt the conversation with something other than, ‘Do you come here often?’

  He chuckled deep and low and the rumble seemed to seep through him, and directly into me. I nearly dropped my cup from the sensation it struck me with.

  We sat down and he didn’t answer for a while. “My full name is Darev Thicket. But I’ve always been called Rev.”

  I expected Revenge or Reverence—maybe Reverend. Darev I could deal with.

  “I’m Martha Azalea Ember. My mom was a big first president buff.”

  No one needed to know that douche canoe.

  “History—huh. I like your mo
m already.”

  I glared at him.

  Don’t like my mom, like me.

  “My dad passed away when I was a kid. My mom’s the clan’s midwife. You probably already know that.”

  “Yes. I do. And you? You work at night sometimes.”

  Oh my dear Creator above. How did he know that? Has he been stalking me? Oh, I’ve always wanted a stalker.

  Stalkers are hot.

  “I do. I work at lot at night. It’s quiet at night. During the day, sometimes I help Echo with clan business and so that leaves my work for at night. How did you know?”

  If it was possible, he shrunk down into the cushions of the couch and blushed like a teenager caught in the throes of a heavy make-out session. I wished that was the case.

  He stuttered, “I…sometimes…Icanseeyouthroughthewindowatnight.” It all came out in one fail swoop without a breath. Obviously the whole ordeal was something he was embarrassed about, but I was flattered. At least I wasn’t the only one who’d done some pre-mating checking out. I felt awful for asking him. I cringed as his nervousness swelled inside me.

  “Rev, it’s fine. I certainly did my share of checking you out before tonight. And just to make you feel better, I told the Coeur on more than one occasion how good you smelled,”

  Well, that perked him up.

  “So why didn’t you—you knew?”

  I blushed and it felt so good to blush in reaction to my mate.

  “That you were my mate? Yes, I knew. And I guess I’m old-fashioned in that way. I didn’t want to chase my male.”

  He slumped towards me on the couch and it dipped in reverence to his weight, “You wanted your male to chase you,” The corner tug smile was in full force now. It was obvious to me that as much as I loved admitting that I did, indeed, crave being chased, that he loved chasing equally. That would make for some interesting runs as bears.

  “I do,” I readily admitted. Why should I pretend to be coy with my mate? It wouldn’t do any good. I knew from my mom’s tales of mates and from Echo that there was no such thing as lying to your mate. They knew. So there was no point.

  “I’ll remember that.” He touched my hand while he spoke to me, and until that night I never knew hands could be so thrilling. The blush took over my body, and I needed a change of subject quickly, even though I’d wanted this kind of talk all along. My bear had caught onto the tone of our conversation and I could practically feel her claws at my throat, digging her way out of me. She had a one track mind, that beastly girl inside. She was sharing images through her mind of Rev and me running through the swamp, bedding down together, and plenty of other images that were not helping with the blush issue.

  My bear was too naughty for words.

  “It’s almost impossible to keep him at bay,” Rev said, rubbing the center of his chest as if that’s where his bear resided, in the crest of his sternum. Truth be told, we didn’t know the ins and outs of why we could change into bears. We simply knew it was a gift from the Creator and accepted it as such.

  “I thought it was just me.”

  His breath faltered and he choked on the next sentence. “Can you? Would it be okay if you got closer? I think it would help.”

  Yes, please.

  I scooted closer, close enough to keep my lady status but not so far as to seem frigid.

  And then he closed the gap between us.

  It’s one thing to hold hands with your mate—and I didn’t want to downgrade the feeling at all, but when Rev enfolded me under his outstretched arm, it was like he’d invited me home. I cuddled in closer to the place where I thought I’d belonged all my life. It was like I’d been in a storm and just now had found the proper umbrella.

  Calloused fingers rubbed circles under the sleeve of my shirt. We both exhaled a great breath at the nearness. His nervousness had gone from a boil to a simmer in seconds.

  “Much better,” he commented.

  “Yes.”

  “How old are you? And you never did tell me what your job is.”

  “I’m twenty-two. And I’m an author.”

  He paled at my answer, and I thought for sure he would bolt. People began to act funny when I told them my profession. Some assumed I sat around in my robe all day ticking away at the computer, which some days I did—others quickly wrote me off as an unemployed dreamer.

  Echo knew I was an author, but she thought, and I never corrected her, that I only wrote children’s books.

  I also wrote romances and I was afraid to tell Rev. Men seemed more affected by my status as a romance author than women. Women seemed to be in awe—but most men just seemed to be put off. Either that or they were uncomfortable.

  I thought, from his reaction, that maybe my mate was, unfortunately, the latter.

  Rev

  I’d underestimated my mate. All that time I’d gathered from her working hours and curious behavior that Martha had some piddly job.

  My mate wrote books for a living, and I recorded histories.

  We almost did the same thing, except I was held to fact while she was free to peruse in fiction.

  However, we were both storytellers of a sort. At one time in our clan’s history, storytellers were as revered as the Alpha himself. The storytellers made sure our histories were kept sacred—made sure that the younger generations knew where they came from and where they got their gifts.

  My mate, in her own right, was a sacred storyteller.

  If it was possible, my respect for her grew infinitely in that moment. She sat down at a blank piece of paper and created visions and lore out of nowhere. My mate made a living with her mind alone.

  I was in awe.

  “Can I read what you’ve written?”

  I was overcome by the desire to read her words, see how much talent she possessed.

  “I—um—are you sure?” She sputtered out her unsure response and I wondered where the confident woman that everyone else seemed to know was. The Coeur had often mentioned Martha in conversation, obviously aware of our possible mating. She’d always said that Martha was the most independent woman she knew. The Coeur took pride in her friend for her tenacity and intelligence.

  Plus, she was my mate.

  Why wouldn’t I want to read every word she put her mind to?

  “Of course I’m sure.” She suddenly looked uncomfortable and it pained me that my presence was causing her to feel that way.

  The thing was, she felt perfect next to me. Her petite form molded under my arm. I sent a thought of appreciation up to the heavens for a mate that was made just for me. I took the opportunity to inhale the scent of her once again. Since I was a boy I’d reveled in the rain. The sound of it on our tiny tin roof, the smell of it when my dad opened the windows—the feeling of a rainy day always made me feel like home.

  Now I knew why.

  My mate was the rain—my mate was home.

  An alarm, the hideous blare of a phone’s alarm shook me from my comfortable haze and jolted Martha back into reality. She’d seemed just as relaxed as I was, but now the alarm had her jumping up, turning it off and looking like she had better things to do.

  Maybe I was in the way.

  Maybe she was so self-reliant that she didn’t even need me.

  I had no clue how much I needed her until that night.

  But I had.

  It felt as if I’d been at the cusp of a cliff before, toes hanging off the edge, waiting for my chance to jump.

  “I should go,” I nodded at the phone. “You’ve got things to do and so do I.” The truth was, I didn’t have anything that couldn’t be postponed to have a few more minutes with the one I’d waited so long for.

  “Oh, that’s just my reminder to start working. It can wait.” A yawn erupted from her cutely formed mouth, opposing her words. She had hardly any make-up on, but her lips were pink and plump without it and when she spoke, I couldn’t take my eyes off them. Under my perusal, she ran her teeth over the plumper bottom lip. My feet shifted on the floor. My bear h
ad taken them over and was willing them to move towards her—take that lip between my own.

  And so much more.

  “What about tomorrow?”

  She asked the question as if I’d really allow a day without seeing her.

  “Tomorrow is my first lesson with the children. The Alpha wishes me to begin teaching them the history of the clan and the Creator. It’s at ten. After that I’m yours.” No, that wasn’t right at all. “I mean, I’m yours anyway.”

  “I know. Ten, huh? That’s about the time I wake up.”

  “What time do you go to bed?”

  “After sunrise.”

  I laughed. It seemed my mate and I were opposite in all things coffee and sleeping times. That would change—I hoped.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “That’s the time I wake up. I will be here after the class. I’m not going to wait longer than that to see you again.”

  She smiled and nodded. If she liked the chase, then I would be happy to oblige.

  Nodding in return, I headed for the front door, but the whole time had to fight my bear.

  It hadn’t been enough time.

  I needed more time with her.

  You’ve got her for a lifetime.

  “Rev.” Martha called out to me and I stopped immediately.

  “Yes, mate.”

  I loved saying that and from the blush that blossomed even more fiercely on her face, she loved hearing it.

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  She shrugged looking unsure of her answer. “For being my mate.”

  “It will always be my pleasure, love.”

  I forced myself out the door and left her to her work. Before long she wouldn’t have to work and then she could maneuver her schedule to compliment mine.

  Martha

  I thanked him for being my mate.

  Like a turd bucket.

  Who does that?

  Turd buckets, that’s who.

  By the time I got to my office, I was thoroughly pissed at myself and frustrated with my phone. Most of the time, when my phone went off, I was already at my, desk, coffee in hand, chomping away at my latest manuscript. I had two books going at one time—one, a young adult romance, and the other, a paranormal about a necromancer, so I usually needed no persuasion.