Stolen By Her Bear by Felicity Heaton

Chapter 15

Saint was dreaming. Had to be. The light brush of fingers through his hair. The sweet smell of berries. It all had to be a dream. A torment. He was aching for Holly and here she was.

He could feel the heat of her pressed against his hip, the warmth of her flowing into him as he drifted in the darkness, easing the chill from his bones and thawing his blood. The delusion didn’t end there. He could hear her voice too, swore she was saying his name in a hushed, gentle tone.

“Wake up, Saint.”

He didn’t want to obey that command, didn’t want to wake. He just wanted to sleep forever, until this nightmare ended. Or maybe he wanted to hold on to this dream of her. Here he could have her. Here she wanted to be with him.

This place wasn’t a dream.

It was Heaven.

Maybe he had died after all. Maybe this was the other side. A place where he could be with Holly just as he had wanted, could have the female he felt sure was his fated one. The only female he needed.

“Wake,” she urged, her voice like summer sunshine.

He basked in it as her fingers danced down his cheek to brush his whiskers and then dropped lower to stroke his jaw, heat following in the wake of that tender caress.

Wherever she touched, he warmed.

And he felt loved.

This Holly loved him. He could feel it in that touch, and gods, it brought tears to his eyes, tore down his strength and humbled him because he didn’t deserve it.

“Come back to me.”

Now Saint knew he was dreaming.

She had wanted to be away from him, and he couldn’t blame her, even when it hurt him. He had done everything wrong from the start. He had listened to his bear side too much, had been too tired to fight it, and by the time he had mustered the strength to be gentler towards her, it had been too late.

The damage had been done.

Hadn’t it?

Her thumb brushed his lower lip, a tantalising caress that had tingles chasing in its wake.

“You’re scaring me now,” she murmured, her voice growing more distant as he relaxed into the darkness, her gentle touch easing the tension from his body and his soul, making him feel heavy again.

Bone-deep tired.

He wanted to apologise for scaring her too. He had frightened her. More than once. He had felt her fear when he had been fighting the cougars. She had been afraid for her kin, had been scared he was going to hurt them. He hadn’t wanted to hurt them, but they had been trying to take her from him, and his instincts had gone wild.

“I wasn’t afraid for them, Saint… I was afraid for you. I wanted you to stop fighting. You were hurt.”

He frowned as she responded to his thoughts. Had he spoken them aloud? Perhaps it was because he was dreaming and, in this dream, she could hear his thoughts.

“I’m not a dream.” Her voice was thick, laced with pain and uncertainty, with that trickle of fear he could sense in her.

Her hand lowered to his right shoulder.

“This looks bad.”

She stroked fingers over a bandage there.

Warmth splashed onto his bare chest.

The scent of salt filled his nostrils, mingling with the berries.

Tears?

He had to be dreaming.

But he needed to be sure.

Saint cracked his eyes open, grimacing at how dry and sore they were. He blinked the grit away and frowned as his gaze sought Holly and found a hazy figure where he swore she was. He blinked harder, squinted to clear his vision.

Stilled as he found Holly sitting on her knees beside him, a beautiful look of concern etched on her face and her eyes filled with tears. A smile wobbled on her lips. Fleeting. Gone too soon. He ached with a need to cup her cheek, to comfort her, but he was so damned tired that he couldn’t move, could only stare at her and hope she wasn’t a figment of his imagination.

His beautiful Holly. His strong female. She hadn’t cried when he had taken her from the Creek, hadn’t cried when Knox had frightened her, hadn’t cried when he had kept screwing things up with her, but now there were tears in her eyes. Tears for him. Born of fear.

She was crying for him.

Another first. No female had ever cried for him before. No female had ever looked at him like that either, as if she was on the verge of dying too, as if the sight of him hurt was killing her.

His eyes slipped shut again and he had to force them open, desperate to keep looking at her, sure she would disappear on him if he didn’t. Sleep beckoned but he fought it, resisted the call of it as he stared at Holly.

Her grey-green eyes drifted down to his shoulder, turning solemn as her brow furrowed.

“I’ll heal,” he croaked, swallowed to clear his throat and added, “I’ll heal quickly… now you’re here.”

He was sure of that as he walked his fingers over the furs towards hers, as he claimed her hand and she didn’t tense. As she looked at him with soft, warm eyes. He pulled on her hand and she didn’t resist him. She sank onto her side on top of the covers and rested her head on his bare chest as if it was the most natural thing in the world for her to do.

Hell, it felt as if it was.

He couldn’t get over the fact that she was back with him—that she had come back to him. He had been sure he had lost her and would never see her again, but here she was.

“Are you really here?” he mumbled, afraid of the answer to that question, a small part of him still convinced he was hallucinating all of this and that any moment he would wake to find himself alone.

Or worse, would find Lowe standing sentinel over him, demanding he get better.

Her warm breath skated across his chest, teasing him. “I’m really here.”

She placed her palm over his heart and the tension that had been building inside him instantly dissipated.

“That’s good.” He placed his hand on hers, curled his fingers around and clutched it.

That warmth she stirred in him flowed through every inch of him as he held her, making him feel at peace, as if everything was right in the world again and now he could rest. He could heal.

“I’m sorry I said those things.” She tensed as she whispered that, stiffening against him, pulling him back up from the sleep that had been claiming him. Her head shifted against his chest, silken hair caressing his skin, and her gaze seared his face. “I just wanted them to stop hurting you. I didn’t mean to hurt you too.”

Saint pulled her a little closer, pressed his fingers into the soft wool of her jumper and held her a little tighter. The pain that had been a constant in his heart from the moment she had walked away from him finally eased, as if she had removed a thorn from it and kissed it better for him.

She reached up and feathered her fingers down his cheek. “Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake.”

He still tried to fight it, didn’t want to risk it in case he woke and she had been a dream. He wanted to stay here in this moment with her forever, holding her like this, feeling at peace.

His body had other plans though.

Sleep overtook him, pulling him back to the darkness.

When he woke again, the instant fear that claimed him was quick to wash away as he felt the light weight on his chest, one that was pleasant and warm, and offered him comfort as her scent of berries drifted around him. He held Holly to his chest and sifted his fingers through the gentle waves of her black hair as he dozed off again.

Someone growled.

Not him.

Not a bear.

Cougars.

A fight erupted outside, luring him up from sleep, and stealing the female from his arms. Cold replaced the warmth of her and he did growl now as rage rolled through him, as every instinct fired and demanded he get her back in his arms, tucked safely against him. He fought the powerful grip of sleep, tried to shake it loose as he heard the door open, as snarls and growls reached his ears.

Knox. Lowe. He needed to protect them.

He needed to protect his female.

“Return Holly, and maybe I won’t kill you.” The familiar male voice belonged to Storm and Saint wanted to snarl as his fangs elongated, as fur rippled over his skin.

No one was taking Holly from him.

Sweet berries.

His heaven.

He couldn’t lose her again.

Saint rolled and hit the floor with a grunt, pushed to his feet and stumbled as his head spun, the loft twirling with it, and his knees gave out. His head hit the mattress as he slumped onto it, his upper half resting on the furs while his bare knees pressed into the floorboards. He sucked down a deep breath.

Caught Holly’s scent.

Holly.

He couldn’t let them take her. He shook off the dizziness and mustered his strength, limited as it was, another thing that made him want to rage. He pushed up again, grabbed the jeans someone had slung over a chest and sank onto the edge of the bed. Almost lost his balance and rolled right off the damned thing.

He fumbled with the jeans, growing increasingly frustrated as he tried to get his feet into them. He was stronger than this. He was an alpha and his pride were in danger.

Holly was in danger.

On a low growl, he tackled his jeans with a renewed sense of purpose, managed to get his bare feet into them this time and tugged them up his legs. He stood and locked his knees as they wobbled, pulled his jeans up and snarled at the fiddly buttons, cursing them.

“Cameo, go back inside.” Lowe hollered that order and followed it with a vicious growl. “Take your eyes off her, cougar.”

Cameo? Saint vaguely recalled smelling a human female, hearing her talking to Lowe when he had found him in the snow. Lowe was keeping the female at Black Ridge. That tore a growl from him for a different reason. He would be having words with Lowe once he had driven the cougars away.

“You into kidnapping too?” Cobalt growled that question.

“Fuck off,” Knox answered. “You don’t know shit about my brother. You don’t know anything about any of us.”

Cobalt scoffed. “Know enough to know you’ll get your asses kicked if you don’t hand Holly over.”

No. It wasn’t going to happen. Not on Saint’s watch. Holly had come back to him. She had chosen him. He wouldn’t let the cougars take her again. He needed her.

He reached for the newel post at the top of the wooden spiral staircase, gripped it so hard he was sure it was going to crack under the pressure, using it to support himself. He shuffled forwards, fighting another dizzy spell as his right shoulder ached and every muscle in his body protested about being used.

Saint gritted his teeth as he shifted his left hand down to the railing mounted on the wall, as his leg almost gave out beneath him and he had to grab the banister with his right hand to stop himself from falling.

Pain blazed through his shoulder, an inferno that stole his breath and filled the air with the scent of blood. He glanced at the bandage, at the spots of fresh crimson seeping through the cream material, and clenched his jaw as he pushed onwards, unwilling to let the injury slow him down.

Nothing would stop him from protecting Holly.

He reached the bottom step and swayed left, grabbed the kitchen counter and used it as a crutch as his vision blurred. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook off the dizziness, dragged down a breath and forced himself to keep moving.

Saint mustered his strength, aware he would need it when he reached the door, when he stepped out onto the deck to deal with the cougars.

He had to protect Holly.

Had to stop the males from taking her.

He reached the door and gripped the frame hard, lifted his head to assess the situation and froze.

Stunned by the sight of Holly standing just in front of Knox and Lowe, facing off against the cougars.

Her own kin.

Defying them and defending him.