Return to Bear Bluff Complete Series Read online

  “Dylan,” she called hoarsely, her throat constricted in panic. She coughed, and then called louder. “Dylan! Are you there?”

  Nothing. She ducked down under the trees, seeing the bike and knowing it was his. Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them away; this was no time for tears, Dylan needed her, her mate needed her.

  “Dylan.” Then she saw him, face down in the dirt. “No, no, no.” She ran to him, and knelt by his side, unable to tell if he was breathing. Carefully, she placed her hand on his back, and felt the rise and fall of his chest under her hand. The relief was immense.

  Carefully, she checked his airways, and turned him into the recovery position, noting the cut above his eyes, and that his lip was swollen. Placing his hand on the ground, she saw there were no defensive wounds on him. He had let someone do this to him.

  “Oh, Dylan.” She stroked his face, and saw him twitch. Bending down, very carefully, she kissed his mouth, breathing his name. “Dylan. Wake up, it’s time to wake up.”

  “It’s much better when I’m unconscious,” he said. “It doesn’t hurt so much.”

  “What the hell happened?” she asked, pressing her hand on his chest when he made to sit up. “Take it slow.”

  “Slow is all I can manage,” he said. “I think I have a broken rib.”

  “Anything to get out of work,” she said. “There, let me help you.”

  “Burgh. Ouch. OK, that stings.”

  “We need to get you to a hospital.” She helped him to his feet, and then supported his weight as much as she could as they walked to the truck.

  “No hospital,” he said.

  “Why not? I can call the police from there.”

  “No police.”

  She nearly dumped him on the road. “You can’t let someone get away with this.”

  “Steph, just take me to my grandpa’s, please.”

  “And then you’ll explain?” she asked, somehow dragging the truck door open and getting him into the passenger seat. Until she tried to lug a beast of a man into a truck, she didn’t realize how high the seat was. With aching arms, she did the seatbelt up, and then started the truck, praying it would get them to his grandpa’s. And that once they were there, he would give her the information she needed.

  After a long ten minutes of uncomfortable silence, when Dylan managed nothing but a few groans, and not much else, they reached the small cabin. As the truck bumped up the drive, she tried not to conjure up the image of Tilly, standing on tiptoes and kissing Dylan the night before.

  At the sound of the truck, Dylan’s grandpa appeared, and came out to meet her. She steered the truck as close to the cabin as she could, so Dylan would not have to walk too far. She didn’t think she could carry him if his legs failed him, and his grandpa was looking frail.

  “Hello there. Can I help you? Stephanie, isn’t it? Dylan’s told me all about you.”

  “Hi. Yes. Well… I have Dylan in the truck.”

  “He hurt?”

  “Yes.”

  “Come off that bike? I always knew he would sooner or later.”

  “I don’t think it was an accident,” Steph said. “He was run off the road.”

  “What?” Grandpa pulled open the passenger door, and his thin face paled. “What the hell! I told you when she came sniffing around here it would end in trouble.”

  “Thanks, I’m feeling like crap, and you are going to I told you so me?” Dylan asked, although his speech was slurred thanks to the swelling on his lip.

  “This needs setting right,” his grandpa said.

  “No, it doesn’t. He’s had his piece of me, that will be the end of it.”

  “There will never be an end to it, not if you come back here to live.” He looked at Steph. “The only way you two are ever going to be happy is if you leave Bear Bluff and never come back.”

  “Let’s not talk about that now,” Steph said, looping Dylan’s arm over her shoulder. “Ready? This is going to hurt. I still think we need to get you to the hospital.”

  “I heal fast,” he said, groaning as she took his weight and he slid out of the truck to land heavily.

  “Ahh, crap,” Grandpa said, and she looked up to see Tilly, on a bicycle, heading up the drive. “Get him inside. I’ll handle this.”

  “No,” Steph said. “I will.”

  “Steph. No. I’ll talk to her,” Dylan said.

  “I want answers. And you won’t give them to me. So she’ll have to.” Steph lifted his arm off her shoulder and leaned him up against the truck. “Stay there.”

  Then she went to meet Tilly, who was leaning her bike against the fence and running towards them.

  “Time for you to learn who Dylan belongs to,” Steph said quietly, and went to face her.

  Chapter Twelve – Dylan

  “You’re the reason he got beaten up?” Steph said accusingly as she squared up to Tilly.

  “No. I didn’t know Ron would do that.” She shook her head, looking tearful. “Is he OK? He’s not going to die?” Tilly began to cry. “It’s all—all my fault.”

  “Why is it your fault? Because you came to see Dylan last night?” Steph didn’t hide any of her emotion from her voice. “And then what? You went running home and told your boyfriend?”

  “Help me up, Grandpa,” Dylan said, and held out his hand to the old man.

  “Why? So you can make an even bigger mess of it?” Grandpa answered.

  “No.”

  “Then let Steph know the truth. You owe her that much. If you ever want her to be happy with you, you have to tell her. She won’t tell anyone else, not if you make her promise not to.”

  “No. I can’t. What about Tilly?” Dylan asked.

  “What about Tilly?” A voice said from behind them, and there was Ron Franks, big, angry, and ready to finish the job he had started.

  “Ron,” Tilly squeaked. “You go home. You’ve done enough.”

  “I knew you would come here. I knew you would come and cry over him.” Ron spat on the ground at Dylan’s feet. “Why do you love him so much? You are mine.”

  “Don’t.” Tilly put her hands over her ears. “Stop shouting.”

  Ron softened, but the anger and jealousy in his eyes remained. “Why did you come to him last night? I could smell him on your clothes. I could smell him on your skin.”

  He sensed Steph stiffening, and her eyes bored into Dylan, wanting the same answers. Answers he couldn’t give. But Tilly could.

  “I came to see him, to say thank you,” she whispered.

  “Steph, will you please take Tilly home?” Dylan begged his mate, knowing he had no right to ask.

  “No, Dylan. I can’t live with this. Not now. Not when…” Tilly shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Ron.”

  “For what? Being a cheating whore?” Ron asked.

  “No. Nothing like that. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.”

  Ron advanced on her, and Dylan pushed himself upright, ready to take Ron on if he set one finger on Steph or Tilly. That was his greatest fear, that he would take away the thing he loved the most, that he would take Steph from him, just as Ron thought Dylan had taken his brother, Greg, from him all those years ago.

  “Then what do you keep coming here for? I’ve seen you. At night, I’ve followed you here, when you’ve come and sat at the edge of the trees and wept for him.” Ron thrust a finger at Dylan, his face turning red with rage and his bear dangerously close. Dylan was sure that this was going to come down to a fight between the two bears. Teeth and claws instead of hands and fists.

  “I’m so sorry,” Tilly said.

  “Tilly, go home,” Dylan insisted. “Go now.”

  “I can’t. I can’t let you keep covering for me. It was bad enough before, but now Ron and I are mates…” She took a step towards Ron. “It was me.”

  “Tilly, no. If you tell him, it will be all have been for nothing,” Dylan said.

  He didn’t see her move, he felt her presence first, Steph had come to his side, helping to
support him. Ready, he knew, to fight beside him if it came to it, to protect her mate with her life if she had to. When he looked into her face, he saw the sorrow there. She already knew his secret. Steph understood the connection between him and Tilly and that fateful night.

  Ron’s body relaxed. He swayed a little from side to side, as if the air had gone from him, along with the fight. Dylan’s adrenaline ebbed away., leaving him feeling like crap. Ron knew. The question Dylan couldn’t face was what happened now.

  “You killed my brother?” Ron accused, but there was no anger. “You were the one who ran him down?”

  “Yes,” Tilly whispered, as if the breath she had held from that fateful night, was finally free to leave her. The pain in her face made her look so vulnerable. It was the same look she wore when Dylan had heard her scream ten years ago.

  Greg had grabbed hold of her and forced her to the floor, ready to claim her. She’d screamed at him to get off her, she’d kicked him and scratched at him, but Greg was too strong. Dylan had run from the woods, trying to help Tilly. Somehow, Tilly had fought Greg off, and made it to her attacker’s bike, but she didn’t know how to ride it, it was too powerful … and it had run away with her, knocking Greg to the ground, and killing him.

  “It was an accident,” Dylan said. “It happened just like I testified.”

  “Only she was on the bike,” Ron spat.

  “I’m so sorry, Ron.” Tilly reached for him, her heart in pieces, her face a crumpled mess. “I didn’t mean to. I was just trying to get away from him.”

  “Get. Away. From him? You mean Greg. My brother?” Ron stepped closer to Tilly, his body towering over hers. “Why were you trying to get away from him?”

  “He said I was his mate.” She began to sob, and Dylan wanted to comfort her, but Steph stopped him.

  “This is between the two of them,” she said gently, the pain in her eyes not because of him, but because of the pity she felt for him. For what he had done, in a moment of stupid bravado, when he had told Tilly he would take the blame.

  “But you’re my mate,” Ron said, reaching out and stroking her cheek, wiping the tears away.

  “I didn’t know. You didn’t know. Not then. I was too young. But Greg tried to persuade me he knew, that because he was older, he knew and that he was going to claim me.”

  “He tried to rape you?” Ron asked, his voice breaking.

  Tilly nodded. “I fought so hard. And when I got up, all I could think of was running, but he was faster. So I got on his bike, I’d ridden behind him enough to know how it worked. But not how hard it was to handle.”

  “Damn it, Tilly. I’m so sorry.” Ron held her tight, the mate bond between them making his need to protect her reach into the past, to try to shield her from the horror of that night. It was a bond Dylan understood only too well. All he hoped was that Steph would be as forgiving.

  Chapter Thirteen – Steph

  “I’m still trying to figure you out,” Steph said, as she plumped Dylan’s pillows up and then lay down by the side of him, trying not to knock his ribs.

  “You can snuggle a bit closer, I’m not broken,” he said.

  “Stop changing the subject,” she said, although she did move closer, liking the feel of his body next to hers. “Anyway, I thought you said your ribs were broken.”

  “I think they are just bruised. A couple of days and I’ll be back to normal.” He lifted his arm; she felt him wince, and then he rested it on her shoulder, pulling her closer. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

  “I forgive you. I can see why you didn’t tell me. If Ron wasn’t Tilly’s mate, there is a good chance she would be facing prison herself. As it is, we can put it behind us.”

  “Can you?” he asked, kissing the top of her head. “It doesn’t bother you that you will be married to a murderer, that our children will have that stigma their whole life? We might know the truth, but no one else will.”

  She curled her fingers into the fabric of is shirt, and breathed in the scent of him. “What you did was heroic.”

  He laughed, humorless, and then groaned. “No laughing for me.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “All I could think of, that night, was how Tilly would never survive prison, not even juvie. She would have died in there. I would have felt as if I had two deaths on my hands. And her poor family had been through enough.”

  “None of it was your fault,” Steph said adamantly.

  “I invited them over. I let Greg drink my grandpa’s whiskey. If he hadn’t been drunk, it might not have happened.”

  “Being drunk did not excuse what he tried to do to Tilly.” Steph kissed him. “And you are still my hero.”

  “Does that mean you accept?” he asked.

  “Accept what?” Steph asked, lifting her chin and looking at his face, her breath shallow as she tried to calm her nerves.

  “My pathetic proposal. I promise I’ll get the biggest diamond I can afford, and get down on one knee and propose properly. I just have to leave town for a few days, and since I am of no use to you on the farm while I heal, I thought I would go tomorrow.”

  “Oh, did you.” She rested her head on the pillow. “You will come back?”

  He moved, his body tensing with the pain, and he looked at her, his eyes deep pools of emotion, even in the dim light of his room. “I will always come back to you. Nothing will ever keep me away.”

  “Promise me you won’t be a hero again, if it means you going anywhere away from me, for any length of time. I don’t think I could bear it.”

  “That is not going to happen. Lightning doesn’t strike twice,” he said, and then kissed her.

  “I want you, Dylan, now and for always.” She kissed him back, fiercely, wanting to claim her mate. “Now I know the truth, maybe we should make our bond more official in a physical way?”

  “If I could, I would, believe me,” he lay back down on the bed.

  “We’re equals, aren’t we? I’m not the little woman tied to the kitchen sink. And you are not the big strong man who is in control.”

  “Thanks for reminding me,” he said, giving her crooked smile.

  “So,” she said, getting up off the bed, “I should take charge of things.”

  “Things?” he asked, his eyes fixed on her hands when they reached for the hem of her T-shirt and pulled it up over her head. Then she unclasped her bra, and let it fall to the floor.

  He made to move, and then winced. “I feel as if I’ve been hit by that old truck of yours.”

  “Then you lie back and let me do the work,” she said.

  Unbuttoning her jeans, she wriggled out of them, her breasts bouncing up and down as she moved. Dylan licked his lips, and she knew if he could, he would be touching her, teasing her, and licking her if he could move.

  Pity, she thought. But it wasn’t going to stop her enjoying every last moment of having him at her mercy.

  Straddling him, she eased herself down onto his thighs, leaving herself enough room to reach for his zipper. Pulling it down, she urged him to lift his hips enough to enable her to pull them down over his thighs and down his legs. He kicked them off, and she moved forward, up along his body, and began to undo the buttons of his clean shirt.

  Earlier, Steph and Grandpa had managed to get him in the shower. Steph had washed his body, checking every inch of him for cuts and bruises. She hated the sight of the big purple patch of skin over his left ribs, where Ron’s fist had punched him, but he was right, it looked more bruised than broken.

  “Why didn’t you fight back?” she asked, leaning down and kissing the bruised skin lightly. If only her kiss were magic and she could heal him.

  “I didn’t want to risk hurting him. Or worse,” he said, the honesty in his voice heartbreaking. “I meant it when I promised I would never do anything to hurt you, or to make anyone take me away. If I’d hit him too hard, or he had fallen awkwardly, I would have gone to prison for a long, long time. I will never risk that. Not now, not ever.”
<
br />   She leaned further forward, her breasts brushing his chest, her nipples rubbing against his skin, and she closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation. Then she licked his nipples, nipping them, and grazing her teeth across the hardened buds.

  “I still have the use of my hands, you know.” He cupped her breasts in his palms and his thumbs rubbed her nipples, a mirrored movement that made her squirm. Which felt good. Her clit was stimulated by the angle of her body. She could have stayed right there and her orgasm would have found her. But she wanted to make Dylan enjoy this just as much as she, and his cock was proud and erect, she could sense him behind her.

  Sighing, she left his nipples, and slid back, her sex wet, and slick, ready for this moment when he would enter her, and she would ride him. Hard, fast, or slow the choice was hers, an empowering thought.

  Teasing him, she held his cock in her right hand, stroking the staff, kneading his balls, and lifting her body up so the head was nudging against her sex. But she didn’t slide down onto him: she made him wait, just as he had made her wait.

  “Fuck, Steph, will you sit on me already?” he said, his voice strained.

  “Not yet. I thought you said you were not demanding around women. You said you saw me as an equal, and here you are telling me what to do.”

  He chuckled, and then said, “Ouch. I take it back, you are in charge, and I’m begging you, before I hurt my ribs trying to thrust into you, please sit on my cock.”

  She burst out laughing. “If that is the extent of your mating ritual, then I have made a serious mistake accepting you as my mate.”

  “Damn it, when I am feeling better, I am going to make you suffer for this. I am going to pin you down, and lick every part of your body until you feel like you are going to expl ….oooode.”

  She slid down onto his cock, and he arched his back before he sank back down onto the bed. She could see he was in pain and felt kind of guilty. But not that guilty. Maybe she should take his mind off it.

  Lifting herself up onto her knees, she let his cock slide out of her until only the tip was nestled in her heated depths, and then she slid back down. All the way down, until he was buried so deep inside her, he might do her internal damage.