Sold To The Bears (A BBW Paranormal Romance Book 1) Page 8

  Right then, in the midst of all the nearby sounds of growling and snarling, I suddenly developed a very strong urge to have Grant make love to me. I suddenly wanted to feel the hard ridges of his muscles beneath my hands. In fact, after he'd dealt with all the wolves, returned to the truck, I decided I'd kiss him and see what happened after that. Maybe we'd make love right in the truck. With the carcasses of all the wolves he'd taken out all around us.

  I was so involved in my sudden little fantasy that I didn't even notice two giant silver wolves creep up to the passenger side of the truck.

  CHAPTER SIX

  What alerted me was the snarling, low and menacing. I slowly turned my gaze from the woods on the left, where Grant was still tossing out mangled wolves, to the darkness beyond the passenger side window. Two enormous silvery-gray wolves crouched beneath the window, though maybe not really even beneath it. They were so tall, they were crouched flush with the window.

  I tightened my grip on the screwdriver in my right hand, fingers suddenly trembling. "Crap."

  The wolves' mouths seemed to twist into identical sneers at the same time. Their long teeth glinted in the silvery moonlight. Their canine fangs immediately made me think of pickaxes. Pickaxes that could drive through flesh and bone as if it were butter.

  One of the wolves snarled again, a little louder this time, a frothy stream of drool dripping from the side of his mouth. My voice came out in a shaky little whisper.

  "Grant. Grant, get over here. Please."

  I knew he couldn't hear me. I knew he probably wouldn't have been able to hear me from inside the truck even if I'd shouted. The words I'd uttered had been more of a prayer.

  One of the wolves pounced, head-butting the side of the truck. The force of the blow rocked the truck, literally lifting it off its right-side tires for a moment. My teeth clacked together when the tires connected with the ground again. Both of the wolves were snarling at the same time, their greenish eyes gleaming.

  I glanced back in the direction of the woods. "Grant!"

  One of the wolves head-butted the truck again, even harder this time, jostling me in my seat. He and the other wolf then glanced at each other and each took a few steps back, seeming to have a plan. I knew they were gearing up for a double-headbutt, one that might even tip the truck, considering their shifter strength.

  I knew I should buckle my seat belt in case the truck rolled. I knew I should just sit tight and wait for Grant. I knew he wasn't far and likely had most of the other wolves dealt with by now. I knew he'd be over any minute to take out the two wolves going at the truck.

  But I didn't buckle my seat belt, and I didn't sit tight. Because at that moment, watching the wolves as they chomped at the air, snarling, ready to tip the truck, an image of Gray and Estelle flashed in my mind. Gray, in wolf form, shielding Estelle, trying to fend off several different wolves coming at him at once.

  Estelle, behind him, terrified and cowering, her big green eyes filled with fear. Somehow, I just knew this was how they'd died. How they'd been murdered. Both of them killed just because Malachi hadn't wanted any resistance in selling me. Killed by their own alpha and their neighbors. Their supposed friends.

  And this, of course, hadn't been the first time I'd been left orphaned by wolves. Malachi and his men had also killed my birth parents. Then, they'd chased me through the woods outside my hometown, intending to kill me, too. Even though I'd been just a little girl.

  I suddenly didn't want Grant to come save me and kill the two wolves attacking the truck. I wanted to kill them myself.

  I fully realized they weren't the same wolves that had killed Gray and Estelle, or my birth parents. They weren't even from Stony Rapids. It didn't matter. I just wanted to hurt any and all wolves, period.

  I wanted to make all wolves suffer to pay for killing the only wolf shifter I'd ever known to have a single shred of compassion, which had been Gray. I wanted to make all wolves pay for making my adoptive mother terrified before her life was ended in a storm of brutal violence.

  Now my hands shook, but not from fear any more.

  I slammed a fist on the passenger side window hard enough to send a jolt of pain racing up to my shoulder. "That's all you can do? That's all you can do? Just corner people and attack them when they're outnumbered, just go after defenseless human women? Cowards!"

  The wolves exchanged glances, eyes narrowed and foam dripping from their canine fangs. They stopped snarling.

  "Cowards! Murderers! All of you!"

  I slammed a fist on the window again. And then again and again and again. Until I was breathless. Until my hand, wrist, and shoulder ached. But I didn't even feel it. I wasn't in my right mind anymore; I could tell, but at the same time, I couldn't.

  My hearing was going in and out in a very strange way, and I could tell that wasn't right. I was hearing the rapid beating of my heart abnormally loudly one moment, then I was hearing only dead silence the next.

  Time seemed to have slowed down, or accelerated, I wasn't even sure which. Time could have stopped altogether. Reality was taking on the hazy blur of a dream. Possible actions seemed to lose all possible threat of consequences. Only my white-hot, dizzying rage remained.

  My next movements felt almost as if someone else were directing my body or moving through me. I unlocked the truck door, pulled the handle, and then kicked the door open, slamming it into the faces of the two wolves, who'd crept closer. My heartbeat accelerated, drumming in my ears, but then all went silent.

  I began stabbing and stabbing with something I gripped in my right hand. A spray of something warm and red splattered across my face. I felt a sudden sensation of pressure on my leg, and then I was down on my rear, still stabbing and stabbing. Another spray of red splashed across my face and top.

  A coppery, tangy scent filled my nostrils. Blurry images of fur and fangs swam in front of my eyes. Noises began filling the seeming dead silence surrounding me. First a snarl, then a whimper of pain. Then a roar, and almost immediately, I was stabbing at air.

  It took me several seconds to stop. Breathless, I looked out into the dark. The screwdriver fell from my hand. In the ditch, not more than fifteen or so feet in front of me, a massive dark shape seemed to be charging at two large, lighter-colored shapes. I knew the darker shape was Grant, and the lighter ones the wolves. Grant had, I assumed, somehow tackled both wolves at once to get them away from me.

  Grant. I'd completely forgotten about him. I'd forgotten about everything the moment I'd come stabbing my way out of the truck. I'd forgotten that he'd specifically told me to stay inside the truck with the doors locked. He'd told me to stay in the truck, no matter what.

  He had not specifically said, "Do not come out of the truck stabbing at the wolves with a screwdriver," but somehow, I just knew that directive was implied under the broader umbrella of his statement telling me to stay in the truck. No matter what.

  I was in trouble. I knew it. I could hardly think about how angry Grant was going to be with me. I knew for certain I didn't want to face him. I couldn't right then. I'd gone from enraged would-be killer of wolves to something like a scared little girl in about half a second.

  Dammit. Damn me.

  My words weren't even audible above the howling and snarling coming from the ditch. The three shifters fought in a blur, their movements further obscured by the dimness, but moonlight and a faint glow from the headlights allowed me to see that Grant was already dominating the two wolves.

  He slashed at them while they snapped their mighty jaws, trying to bite him, without much success, it looked like. Soon he rose to his hind legs, roaring, the sound vibrating through the ground where I sat, then slashed his claws across the bodies of the two charging wolves. They both fell to the ditch, whimpering, but one of them immediately got back up and began to engage Grant again.

  Not even really knowing what exactly I intended to do, I got to my feet, wiping the blood from my face. Next, I just let my feet do what they seemed to want to do, w
hich was get the hell away from Grant. Grant, and all his power. Grant, and what I was sure was going to be his extreme anger. I just couldn't face him. I'd accused the wolves of being cowards, but now I was one.

  I let my feet begin taking me down the road, away from Sun Creek as fast as they could go without breaking into a full-tilt run. I knew Grant would catch up with me eventually. Something just told me that if he caught me running away from Sun Creek for the second time that evening, it would only make him angrier than he was already surely going to be.

  He caught up with me much sooner than I'd thought he would. I'd barely even cleared the glow of the truck's headlights when I heard a few extremely loud howls of pain from the wolves, and then nothing. Then, after several moments, footsteps coming up behind me. Footsteps approaching quickly.

  My heartbeat, which had slowed just slightly once Grant had taken on the two wolves, now began to accelerate again, as did the pace of my breathing. I worked on taking deep, steadying breaths, even as my feet tried to carry me quicker and my heart began beating so fast the sensation was one of a rapid fluttering in my chest.

  I knew by now that Grant wouldn't hit me. At least, I was pretty sure he wouldn't. Although I knew that when angry, men could be unpredictable. Even men who normally weren't violent. Gray had taught me that lesson.

  However, even though my trust in Grant was brand-new, I just had a feeling deep in my gut that he'd never become violent with me, no matter how angry I made him. And when he soon caught up with me, took me by the arm, and began marching me back to the truck, I became certain of this.

  His touch was firm, there was no doubt about that, but his grip wasn't vice-like. He wasn't hurting me. He was, however, making it crystal-clear that he was taking me back to the truck; I didn't have a choice in the matter and he expected me to comply. I wasn't about to not comply. I wasn't about to put up the least amount of resistance. I was afraid of making him clench his strong, square jaw even harder than he already was.

  He didn't speak while he marched me. He didn't say one word. Neither did I. I did, however, keep glancing periodically at his face, which was illuminated by the glow from the truck's headlights just up ahead. His icy blue eyes seemed even icier than usual, and he didn't unclench his jaw even once.

  When we got to the truck, he opened my door for me, helped me in, and then stooped to lift the pant leg of my jeans. I didn't quite understand what he was doing, though I figured I probably shouldn't question him.

  After a few moments of searching the skin of my calf for something in the dim glow from the interior dome light, he put my pant leg back down over my calf. "His teeth didn't break the skin, and thank God for that. You could have been badly, badly injured. You could have been...."

  He clenched his jaw again, gave his head a little shake, and shut my door. I knew he'd been about to say killed. He hadn't even needed to finish the thought. Now that my senses and rational thinking had returned, I knew what could have happened.

  I recalled how one of the wolves had taken me down to the ground with his teeth clamped around my leg. Grant was right. I was lucky to have escaped serious injury or death. I was lucky that a few little bruises on my calf, as I'd likely have the next day, would be the only sign that I'd decided to take on two wolves myself.

  Grant and I didn't speak while he started the truck and turned it around. We were silent while he began heading back to Sun Creek. After a short while, I just couldn't take the silence any longer. I knew he was mad at me, sure, and even very mad---understandably so.

  I was glad Grant wasn't the hitting type, but maybe I felt like I wanted to at least be yelled at, needed it. Deserved it. Though I was already doing a pretty good job of yelling at my own self in my head. I knew I'd screwed up. Big time. I knew that whatever had come over me, had caused me to make a decision of monumental stupidity. However, at the time, it really hadn't felt like I'd made a decision at all, and I wondered if that would at least count for something with Grant.

  I'd felt almost possessed. I wondered if that would at least allow him to forgive me, or at least try to understand why I'd done what I'd done. As mad as I was at myself, and as much as I was berating myself, I at least understood that something powerful had come over me, and my rational self hadn't been any match for that power.

  Several minutes ticked by with the hum of the truck's engine being the only noise in the cab. I finally looked at Grant and dared to break the silence. “On a scale of one to ten, how mad-"

  "Eleven. A hundred. A thousand. Please don't speak to me again until I've had a chance to cool off. I don't want to say something I might regret."

  His words and the tone of his voice let me know he was very, very serious. I knew I shouldn't say anything more. So, I didn't. However, just after we'd entered the city, Grant surprised me by speaking himself.

  "Lila, what was that? Just what in the holy hell...." He trailed off, taking a hand off the steering wheel and raking it through his thick, dark hair. "Never mind. Please don't answer. Silence is best right now."

  I certainly didn't argue. He clenched his jaw again, and I turned my face to the window and watched the lights from homes and businesses whizzing past just beyond.

  When we got to the family cabin-mansion on the northern borders of the town, he marched me in through the vacant ground floor and up to my rooms on the third floor. Then, without a word, without a single brief goodnight kiss, without anything, he began leaving the foyer.

  But before he could clear the door, I took his arm to stop him. "Grant, please. Just wait. Just talk to me. I don't even care what about. You can tell me how stupid I was; you can tell me how angry you are at me. Just, anything but this silence."

  He slowly turned around to face me. "I'm extremely angry. So angry that I still can't talk to you right now. Though, at the same time, I'm extremely grateful. Grateful that you weren't harmed tonight, and also that fate saw fit to give me another chance to save you from the wolves."

  I wasn't exactly sure what he meant by that. He'd purchased me from them, yes, but that wasn't exactly the same thing as saving me. Or, at least, it didn't seem like the exact same thing to me. When Malachi and his men had been about to kill me after I'd made a run for it the morning of the auction, they'd already decided not to kill me when Grant, Adrian, and Samuel had joined the scene. So, I wasn't exactly sure what Grant had meant when he'd said he was grateful to have had another chance to save me from the wolves.

  "What did you mean by that, Grant? When you just said-"

  "Tomorrow. I can't talk to you any more tonight. I need to deal with removal of the wolf carcasses. Goodnight." He turned and left the foyer, shutting the door behind him, without another word.

  My chest ached. My leg, where one of the wolves had clamped his jaws on me, ached. I knew I'd royally messed up. Right then, not being able to have Grant's arms around me, like I was used to having every night, seemed too severe a punishment for my crime.

  I wondered if Grant would allow Adrian to come to my rooms. Suddenly a bit misty for some reason, I got undressed and took a nice long bath, periodically sniffling while the warm water lapped at my skin. I'd just gotten out and hadn't even dressed yet when a knock sounded at my door.

  Chapter 3-

  Wrapped in a towel, my skin and hair still dripping wet from my bath, I dashed out to the foyer door and flung it open. Grant immediately pulled me into his arms and began kissing me so fiercely that the very firm pressure of his mouth on mine made me whimper. Though not in pain. I wanted him. Suddenly wanted him so desperately that the feminine folds between my thighs immediately became slick. Now I was wet in every possible way.

  With one hand, I pulled off my towel and let it fall to the floor; I ran my other hand along Grant's back, feeling every hard ridge and muscle. His clean, woodsy scent filled my nostrils, and I kissed him back, hard, reveling in his potency, his masculinity, and his strength.

  I was hungry for him. Starved. I felt as if I couldn't get enough of him. No ma
tter if he was mad at me or not. Or maybe because he was mad at me. I wanted him close, wanted to feel his bare skin against mine and his manhood inside of me. I wanted to know he still cared about me and found me desirable and attractive, despite my completely stupid actions earlier. Despite him being so angry at me he couldn't even speak to me.

  Grant continued communicating in other non-verbal ways, though. With his tongue now plundering my mouth, claiming me, he moved his strong, long-fingered hands to my naked rear and began kneading the two full globes. That he still found me desirable and attractive was evident, and not just by the touch of his hands.

  His manhood had grown extremely hard and thick. I could feel it through his jeans, pressing against the soft curve of my belly, tempting me and teasing me. Torturing me. When I could stand it no longer, I hiked a leg up on one of Grant's slim hips, pressing myself against him.

  He responded by breaking our kiss with a sharp intake of breath, eyes closed. "Gosh, Lila."